When I Fall
by Wolfborn
Summary: We all know the story of Ruby and the horror of the night Beacon fell. But what about the other tales untold? Especially that of an inhuman monster, seeking chaos but discovering something much, much worse? (Entirely OC. Canon-Friendly! Gore, Cannibalism, Swearing, Dark Themes, Reference to Torture/Sexual Abuse, Drama, Rated M cos it gets dark real fast!)
1. Dead On Arrival

**It's finally here! I finally found the drive to write this damn thing and was happy with the chapter I churned out! Ladies and Gentlemen, fans of RWBY, I give you my baby, my spin-off project, my "I can't believe it's canon friendly" first chapter of When I Fall. You'll hopefully remember Grimm from my previous RWBY stories. I'm not promising I'll finish all the chapters, I doubt I'm lucky enough to keep this drive or like my work enough to do so, but I want to finish this because I already have plans for a sequel coming together and the characters in that are a lot more unique than Grimm (self-slandering).**

 **So please, please, please, enjoy the first of what will hopefully be a complete story of Grimm. This has been spell checked but I might have slipped up, as I write these at 2am, so some parts might be a bit balls...**

 **Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

We all remember the night Beacon fell to the Grimm.

The night monsters, some in the form of beast, some in form of regular people, caused countless deaths and unending pain to those left alive. Men and women, young and old, human or Faunus, nobody was spared the scars that night burned into them. If you were lucky, you left the chaos alive with nothing but a fresh nightmare in your mind. If you were unlucky, well...

We all remember the pain found within the scream of the silver eyed girl.

A lot of good people were lost that day. Some too young to have suffered such agony. The death of loved ones, the loss of a limb, having old wounds ripped open by a past you thought you'd left behind, there's simply too much to list in such little time. So, instead, we're going to focus on a special case. Not the person you think we will, for her story has already been told several times over by others, some with a different view on her world but all aware of the night she unknowingly consumed the city in heavenly white birthed from anguish. But, rather, let's focus on the life of one specific creature. A man who was more demon than human. A man who, despite his age, suffered more than once through no fault of his own. Skin as white as chalk, teeth sharpened from chewing on bone, fingers tipped with razor sharp nails used to gouge out parts of his enemies, and the skull of one of his torturer's adorning his face to contrast the pitch black hair cascading down his back to his rear. He'd never been a good man. Perhaps he never would be. But all stories need to be told, not just those of the noble heroes and not just those of the pure souls.

So here is the story, the twisted fairy-tale, of a man who became a monster.

Of a soul so black not even silver eyes could hope purify it.

And how, on that infamous day, his story reached its end...

* * *

"RUN! Run like the COWARDS you all are!"

The insane laughter of the monster man broke through the screams of the streets, blood and visceral scattered across the floor, seeping into the cracks like veins pumping through the heart of the city, as if the kingdom itself could feel their pain. Nothing could stop the maniac, especially not with a horde of Grimm following his heels, shredding apart any living creature within their ever hungry reach. He skipped merrily through the streets, a psychotic smirk on his face, as he took in a deep breath. "I can smell **all of their pain!** " His voice warped, deeper and more bloodthirsty, as he wafted his hands towards his face. Being blind had never hindered his ability to hunt down his prey, not when he was so... Bestial. He could hear their whimpers, smell them bleeding, taste their suffering, and had never let a soul escape his greedy desire to eat, eat, eat, consuming flesh and bone and hair like only a savage creature could! As beasts ran beyond him, scattering into the distance for more victims to slaughter, his eyes rolled shut. He could hear it all, feel everything within the city as if it was right beside him. Every life snuffed out, every heart broken, every tear falling...

It. Was. **Delicious**.

The screams and panic added to it all: What's dinner without a show? His eyelids lifted, watching as a Beowulf cut clean through a running man's torso, bi-secting him at the waist within seconds. The very sight of it all made him hungry, watching as his own sick version of wine spurted from the severed remains of what once was a man. Down one of the streets, he could hear resistance, people foolish enough to try fight off death. A jagged claw pointed down to the noise, a smirk on his lips, as a cluster of Grimm stopped behind him. "You boys can catch them off-guard that way. They're too busy to notice another pack behind them." Arm limp, he wondered on, listening as the beasts he spoke to charged down the path he'd given them. He counted his steps, waiting, wanting, listening, until the horrified screams he desired poured from afar. The sounds of resistance had ended, replaced only with the tearing of flesh and snapping of bone. "Should I have gone with them?" He seemed to ask no one in particular, for not even his monstrous family was near now. "It sounds like a good meal is being had." He could feel his stomach pulling, aching, for the taste of flesh. He didn't care who, young or old, male or female, he loved to feel the coppery ting of blood on his tongue, the rough texture of bare skin between his teeth, chewy, tasty, so smoothly slipping down his throat as he bowed for another piece of meat from a victim. He loved the heart the most, crunchy and meaty, it was like candy for cannibals. And nothing could beat a feast with Grimm, is gory and brutal family meal... And perhaps an unlucky and alive victim as their buffet.

 **Don't worry your pretty little head about it, kid.** The other voice, the other Grimm inside of Grimm, spoke up. **There's plenty more flesh-bags around Vale. I bet we can find some real tender food around here and, if not, we can TENDERIZE them ourselves!** An inhuman laugh burst free from his mouth, the two sharing their dark sense of humor together as one soul. The other side of him, the darkness within his mind, had been with him since the beginning. Since he was 'born' into the world through the acts of others. Since his body and soul had been scarred beyond all recognition. It was nice, comforting, to have someone else there. Someone to guide, to empower, to feed and share the world with. To Grimm, this voice was his soul, his stronger half, the part of him that remembered how to survive. And after so many years, it had been so poorly needed. The voice allowed cannibalism, the voice praised acts of violence, the voice loved to see him lose control and become a hideous black man-beast, ripping apart soul and building, in a never ending blood orgy that could so easily be started. And all by removing his skull mask, the last remains of one of his captors, the upper half of their long-since rotted head, from him. It was a focus, a means to hide the beast within him, to mask his powers, keep his aura levels in check. The voice knew about aura, knew that his powers burned through his far too quickly, so forced him to keep it in control. It became their ritual, their little secret, holding back the vast demonic power he harnessed but used up so quickly. And human flesh was the easiest way to feed his strength, to keep him a relentless murdering machine.

All the other one cared about was power. Death. Pleasure from suffering.

All Grimm cared about was making people suffer and die.

The two went together like Nightshade and Wolfs-bane: Always a fatal combination.

 **Do you think they'll be children nearby still? It's been SO LONG since we last ate veal! I mean, they've probably been evacuated first, cos the POOR LITTLE CHILDREN can't handle a little blood! Whaa! Pfft... People are so pathetic.** Grimm sniggered, sharp teeth on show, as he carried along his way. "They probably were kicked out of here long before we arrived. Besides, it's only been so long because you're never careful when shredding them up! They're only tiny, you always mince them!" An argument, as disturbing as this one was, wasn't uncommon between the two insane minds. Both had likes and dislikes, so it was natural they'd fight even when sharing a body. **Oh, I'm sorry, should I hunt down some Faunus then? Or would you be a little bitch like last night and pussy out of killing them cos they "don't look human"?** Grimm snarled at his other self. It had been one time, one moment of hesitation over noticing his victim had antlers, and the other side had never let him live it down. It wasn't his fault his torturers hadn't been Faunus! The non-human traits, it'd throw anyone off if they were hunting for humans to murder. "It was one time! Besides, I killed them in the end!" **No, I killed them. I took control and cracked open her skull because you were too WEAK to do it instead!** Suddenly, a woman rushed out in-front of them, barreling down the street, gasping and whimpering in hysterical panic. **Just like this one. Bet you don't have the balls to kill her too!** He scoffed, blind eyes rolling, as he allowed his arm to be consumed by the black ooze of his powers, a fat Ursine claw replacing what once was a hand. "Watch me."

He sprinted after the woman, who'd quickly noticed him in pursuit, and chased her down the streets. She'd had a head-start, but Grimm was stronger, faster, more bloodthirsty. Another corner and the woman tripped, falling, slamming onto the brickwork beneath her with a scream. She rolled over, eyes wide, hyperventilating, terrified, watching as this semi-human looking man stalked toward her with the limb of a monster, a demented grin stretched across his lips. Crawling back, panting, tears falling, she tried to find the words to beg him to stop, for someone to save her, for it all to be a nightmare, anything to put an end to this horror! But still, Grimm prowled closer and closer, intoxicated by her fear, driven by her terror, hungry for her blood. His readied his claw, looming over the poor girl, enjoying her cries of mercy and panic, the soft ting of ammonia telling him all he needed about how scared for her life she was, and prepared to bring it down clean through her face.

But he couldn't, his attention suddenly locked on the remains of rose bushes nearby.

"...What the-" Suddenly, pain bolted into his skull like a bullet, boring deep, searing hot blinding agony inside of his brain, forcing a scream from his lungs. The woman noticed, sprinting away as fast as her legs could carry her, as Grimm felt his world go black for the first time in years. The pain remained, but the blackness did not. Images, feelings, thoughts, voices, it was all too much too fast, he couldn't understand any of it. But something...

Something was burning into his mind.

 _ **Petals falling from a rose, Fall having come again, casting them to the winds as they do.**_  
 _ **They'd been a gift once, fresh cut, first date. Romantic. Caring. A promise kept.**_  
 _ **Eyes locked, words on lips, heart racing. News: Good, bad? What did they say!?**_  
 _ **Warm embrace, tears, joy, clinging, needing, loving.**_  
 _ **Heart so full. So full it could burst! Palms sweaty, knees weak, being held up.**_  
 _ **Dizzy. Drained. Feel unfed. But loved. Always loved. Needed, wanted, belonging.**_  
 _ **Pride. Love for the unborn. Never to stop for the child forming inside.**_

Grimm gasped, trembling, his Ursine claw having faded away, stumbling backwards as he shook his head. The pain had faded as quickly as it came, pouring out of whatever hole it had drilled into his psyche. "What the FUCK was that!? What did... What did I just see?" Hands grope his stomach, looking for a bump, a sign a child lay within him, only to find the natural flatness of a human lacking the relevant parts to bear child. A chill runs down his spine, eyes wide, a sense of loss washing through him as his palms remain in the place a babe was just a few seconds ago. **Hey, hey, hey! What are you talking about!? I didn't see a thing, you just froze up on us! You better not be getting weak, boy!** His other self snarled, threats falling on deaf ears. Grimm looked around, scanning his surroundings for something he knew should be there. Off to the side, a family of rose bushes lay tattered and trampled, petals ground into the bricks below by the hefty paws of monsters. He wandered to them, glancing down at the remains, mind racing all the while. "Something... Something is wrong. I can..." Head clasped between both palms, claws scratching at the skull atop his scalp, a frustrated sigh escaped. "I'm seeing things, like memories or something, but not mine! How is this possible!? Why has it never happened before!" The other self scoffed, a metaphysical eye roll a sign of mocking within the boy's skull. **Maybe you've finally lost the plot. I'm all for that idea, means I can take over and you can go have your little breakdown elsewhere.** Forcing him to punch his own face, the other self laughed in delight. **You're being WEAK, Grimm! You're being pathetic following things you claim you've seen! Now, stop being a little brat and get back to MURDERING PEOPLE!**

Fingers skittered across skin, arms left limp against his sides, as he took a moment to just breath. "You're right. You're always right. This is... Probably some trick. I can forget it, over come it, right?" He knew the answer, turning to carry on down the street, flexing to shake off the fatigue that seemed to seep into the deepest of muscles. Trick or not, could anyone have that power? Powers to make someone feel, believe a memory that wasn't their own... Was that even a thing? To his knowledge, limited as it was, he'd never heard of a Huntsman ever proclaiming such ability. To make the past call to someone, to summon forth the echos of time to another's mind, to make them relive situations, it seemed... Well, as inhumane as he was. Living the past, suffering his old scars, that would've been bad. Yet, somehow, this life he'd experienced so briefly in such fragmented form, somehow felt familiar. Like he had actually lived that life, like he was indeed a parent to some mystery child. But it all seemed like madness, insanity, to suggest that. To suggest he was recalling history of others. He paced down the blood stained road, strides long and quick, eager to escape the area for fear of another odd event, when his head snapped to the side. He froze, solid, in place as he stared towards a modest but beaten up house. Nothing within moved, there was no scent of joy, family, nothing to say anyone had lived here like the other houses reeked of... Yet he felt himself drawn to it. Hissing as, once again, he found himself thrown into a life that wasn't his own, he tried to piece together all the information on display.

 _ **New. Warm. Comforting. Promises of a good life, just a little away from the roses.**_  
 _ **Happy, joy, love, kisses, so many kisses. A new home, a new start, a new family.**_  
 _ **Pride for the child, pride for the lover, pride in having a new house.**_  
 _ **So happy. So perfect. Life is perfect. Love is perfect. Overjoyed.**_  
 _ **Hands squeeze hands. Lips touch. Belly rubbed... Mild anger. Feel huge.**_  
 _ **Comfort. Love. Comfort, comfort, comfort. Safe. Warm. Happy. At peace.**_  
 _ **Nothing better. Pure bliss. My life. Complete.**_

Brought down, kneeling, gasping, shuddering, Grimm claws into the dirt as his ears ring. The voice inside his head is muffled as his legs fail to support him. He stumbles, rising, pushing forward, knowing the house but having never seen it, needing answers. DEMANDING answers. Slamming into the door, the handle rattles to his grip, pushing and pulling in vain to try and gain entry. In a time of chaos, you'd not expect an empty house to be locked. Such a simple wooden door, such a flimsy lock... Who cares who lived here, he NEEDED answers and he NEEDED to get inside! Launching himself back, he shot forward, foot first, smashing into the oak before him and splintering it clean from the hinges, watching it bounce off into what appeared to be a living room. **WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?** The voice had finally cleared up, the mumble of screams now clear as day. **We should be out there killing things, eating things, ripping out intestines and making pretty little icky jewelry from eyeballs, NOT BREAKING INTO A FUCKING HOUSE!** Grimm huffed, a few steps taken in, before scanning the place. His lack of sight had a few downsides: While he could tell where things were, what they were, how they smelt, tasted, felt, among other things, he could never see their details unless they were physical. Patterns and wallpapers were lost on him. Ignored was the stripped wallpaper, beige with deep brown bars cast along in vertical strips, peeling and faded in places. Ignored was the maple coffee table with endless water rings, sat between two velvet shaded love-seats, atop a plain cream rug. Ignored was the empty picture frames, glass broken, pictures removed, frames hanging irregularly, some dotted above vases of rotten and long dead flowers, one large hanging above an uncleaned fireplace.

The flowers he noticed, the stench overwhelming, but the rest was nothing to him. The inhuman male sniffed up, trying to detect anything beyond the decayed vegetation, but could barely find a hint of human life inside. Just how long had this place been abandoned? And was it even abandoned to begin with? "Something... Something is wrong here. I feel like I know this place, like I know something is missing." Moving through the room, clawed digits brushing over the wooden frame of the love-seat closest, Grimm shifted towards the stairs. There was other doors below, he knew this, which lead to a handful of other rooms but he simply didn't care. Upstairs, his mind told him, upstairs is the answers. Something strong, something pulling him in, drawing, reeling, like a magnet, unable to escape and unwilling to leave without answers. **This is ridiculous! Why are we here when we could be hunting down from stupid human and feasting on their insides!? Are you really going to follow some random bullshit only YOU can see? You're chasing ghosts, chasing something that neither one of us understand, and you're NOT LISTENING TO ME!** It was a question of what the other voice hated more: Grimm following these strange visions... Or being disobeyed. "I need... There's something up here, something important. I just know there is, something I need to see!" The stairs lead to a simple landing, long yet thin red carpet rolled along the path leading to several rooms. Yet again, he knew the other doors would lead somewhere but... Something pointed him to one door and one door only.

 **Listen to me, you stupid fuck, you're not going to find anything here! We're in some strangers house and your trusting some insane 'images' you've seen in your head over ME! I've kept you alive all these years, now is not the time to get soft on me and wander off into some place you'll get KILLED!** A blue door, not that he could tell, with so much dust on the knob it was like it never existed. A room beyond the door, unkept, isolated, unloved, unwanted, ignored, pushed out of life like it wasn't real. Like something didn't belong. "I just... Call me stupid, insult me all you want, but I just can't leave it like this! We'll go kill in a minute, I just- I NEED to know!" Monstrous fingers latched into brass, squeezing, clenching down and threatening to bend the metal out of shape, as Grimm stood before the door. Why was his heart beating so fast? What was beyond the door!? He needed to know. He HAD to know! Answers, answers, answers, that's all that ran through his mind. Answers to the visions, answers to questions he couldn't even understand, answers he had to have because... Something! The door was stiff, hard, unoiled, but weak to the violent shove of his unnatural shoulder. Banging against the wall, all was left exposed to his senses. Dust, lots of dust, with a hint of talc. Old, rotting, cotton, possibly a toy, untouched, never loved, never held. Wood, oak, solid once by fragile by age, forming bars. Why? This wasn't a cell, it wasn't a bedroom, it was-

 _ **Pain! Agony! Suffering! HATE! HATE! HATE! HATE! Die! Kill! Kill! Die! RESENT! PUNISH!**_  
 _ **Must kill! Must harm! Must destroy! Evil! Demon! Revenge! Blame! KILL! KILL! KILL!**_

Screaming out in pain, new feelings, new echoes, forced into his mind. Claws digging in his skull adornment, he grunted through the anguish, wobbling, unable to focus. "What- What IS this!?" He felt his muscle tighten, his brain throbbed, stomach twisting and turning as if it was eating itself, as his knees became useless and boneless. It was a baby's room! The talc, the cotton, the wood, it all made sense, but why was there so much pain!? And why did it hurt! Grimm tried to move, to run away, but lost his ability to walk. He staggered back, yelling out as his head felt like it was about to split apart, body tossed back in a desperate bid to escape. Only, throwing himself against the railing, he found the old wood couldn't support his body. Snapping apart, falling, Grimm slammed into the floor with a resounding **thud** , fracturing the floorboards beneath him as he did. Laying there, panting, stomach churning, bile threatening to force itself from his body, the pain had stopped... But only more questions remained. What was that? Why was there so much? Why a baby's room? Why did he feel that? Why wasn't it enjoyable to taste pain? Who lived here!? The entire ordeal was hurting his head to think about, the other voice more than willing to agree. Behind the dull ache of his skull, the voice screamed. **What. The. FUCK. Was that!? What did you just do!? Because I felt that, all that- that... Pain! Why are we in pain, WHAT DID YOU DO!? We've never felt that before, what have you done to us!?** It hurt to breath, hurt to think, like he'd just been beaten and tortured all over again all within a couple of seconds. "I don't... I don't know. I just... Fuck, that hurt."

With a groan, Grimm pushed himself up, climbing onto unsteady feet as he did, brushing off his clothes as he did. There was no lasting damage, it seemed, beyond a bruised pride. The entire ordeal had shaken him to his core, that much he knew, but otherwise it was fine. **You should've listened to me. If we hadn't have come here, you wouldn't have fallen on your ass like a little brat and we would be having fun, torturing and killing pathetic little weak humans by now!** With a grunt, stretching, he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know, you were right. But it's fine. I don't feel the need to be here anymore, whatever it was is over now, so can we please just forget this happened and go back to what we always do?" Flexing his arm, allowing black to smother his skin and spawn forth razor sharp claws, a smile crossed his face. He was happy to still have his powers, which meant he could easily return to murdering every delicious sack of flesh he encountered. **Urgh, fine! But you better listen to me from here on out. No more stupid side tracking!** The black limb disappeared as quickly as it had come, fading back to pale white skin. "I promise." Turning to the door, the monster boy stopped in place. Outside was an Ursa, sniffing the air, hunting for free meat without a doubt. He seemed curious, glancing around, confused as to where the prey in question was. "Well, glad to know we're not the only ones who are late to the party." After attempting to take a few steps forward, however, he stopped again.

The Ursa was staring at him.

 **Um... What is he doing?** Grimm had a horrible feeling sink inside of him. The kind of feeling when you know you can't stop yourself from falling or when you're simply powerless to prevent something from happening. The bear beast looked confused, as if he was weighing up his options, thinking for much longer than Grimm normally need to. "I don't know... But it can't be good." How bitter his words would be within a matter of moments. The beast outside seemed to have decided, eyes glowing hot with purpose, a mighty bellow from its throat cast out across the city, before it hunched up on all fours, ready to pounce, that it's prey wasn't all that far away.

As it burst through the doorway, taking a chunk of the wall with it, Grimm could only watch, eyes wide in horror, as the Ursa, once a friend and ally, lunged forward with a taste for his flesh...

* * *

 **Hopefully to be continued!**

 **Oh, and just to make this clear, given I'm posting this near the end of season 5: Yes, Grimm shares two traits with two different characters in the series, one from Season 4 and one from Season 5 (No spoilers though. You'll probably know who if you watch the series). However, if you go back and look at the timestamp of the previous two fics, you'll see they were released BEFORE Season 4 and 5. So Grimm's design is 100% original! No cheap ideas here!**

 **Unless of course you're claiming I work for Rooster Teeth, cos how else would Grimm do things that only appeared two seasons after I originally designed him? And RT doesn't have to worry about me getting all "I came up with it first! Meh meh meh!" on them...**

 **I'm just proud to know I think like a RWBY writer!**


	2. Decay

**Shorter chapter this time around, by about 1000-1500 words, but it's mostly filler to be fair. Not the best chapter, but it's required. Had I actually the skill to animate any of this, this'd be part of episode 1! This isn't going to be a long story, and I've never written action before, but this would equate to about 3 episodes on Youtube so... Yeah, I'm writing a lot but it's only about 45-55 minutes of anime. Sucks I can't single handedly make this series, that'd be a LOT easier telling the story!**

 **But yeah, not the best chapter, mostly filler, but hopefully you enjoy it anyway!**

* * *

Grimm had never ran from actual Grimm.

This, as odd as it sounded, was a fact. As a child, back when he could still be called human, Grimm had always been protected. Coddled even. He'd never seen a Grimm in reality nor ever ran for his life. Even after his... Unfortunate 'upbringing', he'd never ran. The day of his rebirth, he'd climbed atop the furry back of a Beowulf and slept as it marched on. He trusted them, was made strong by them, built a family from the only things in his life that never hurt him, never tortured him, never ripped him from his mother's love to violate in countless ways for a sake of a few laughs. A few laughs which turned into years of unending agony and a thirst to meet his end no normal man could match. The blackened creatures of nightmares, these heartless beasts of death and pain, what many thought was the physical form of the world's sins, was the only thing that came close to loving him after his mother's execution at the hands of his own disgusting species...

And yet here he was, leaping around some stranger's house, avoiding the claws of an Ursa trying to rip out his spine and floss with it.

"No! Stop it! DOWN! Stop trying to kill me, you useless bag of shit!" Off the banister of the stairs he jumped, the fragile wood splintered beneath the massive heft of the beast chasing him, rolling over the remains of the upholstery and darting into one of the doors on the lower floor. "What the hell is that stupid thing doing!? Why is it trying to kill us!?" The other voice tried to speak but was cut off as the rabid creature burst through the wall. Tucking and rolling, ducking and dodging, Grimm skittered around the small room avoiding the unending slashes, pausing only when his attacker launched itself into the adjoining room accidentally (and taking out another wall in the process). **Hell if I know, kid, but this isn't normal! We've never had to fight them before, never had to run, so I'd start asking yourself what the FUCK you did upstairs that upset the natural order of things! If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was treating you like a-** Another interruption as the inhuman boy was tackled back into the living room, wrestling with the gnashing teeth of his former ally and desperately trying to keep them away from his throat. Blood stained jagged bone snapped at his face, drool oozing down his cheek, as the entire weight of the demon atop him tried to crush him. "Get off of me, you- Urgh!- Dumb bastard!" Curling up on himself, feet pressing against the Ursa's gut, Grimm growled. "I said **GET OFF OF ME!** "

Unleashing a roar, both feet were shot violently forward, sending the creature flying backwards and into another portion of wall, collapsing part of the house ontop of it. The monster man flipped back onto his feet in time to see it hadn't even fazed his aggressor, not even dazed it, two hungry red eyes burning like the sun amidst all the rubble of the stranger's home. **I can't believe I'm about to say this, but we need to KILL this thing! It's no use to us if we're the thing it's trying to kill!** His other side shouted, a flash of panic echoing through them both as they realization sunk in: For the first time in their joint existence, they'd need to murder a brother in arms. But what else could they do? Die? Run? It was pointless. This rebel, this random act of violence against them, NEEDED to die! No one stepped out of line, no one attacks them and gets to live! "I can't believe I'm about to do this..." **There's no other way. Now rip the bastard in half and let's get out of here!** Grimm sighed, watching as the beast before his reared up on hind legs to bellow at him. To think this Ursa had been a friend just an hour ago... He readied himself, taking a gamble but not allowing his enemy to draw this out by resisting, leaving it till the last minute to impale the demonic bear through the chest. It charged, roaring, snarling, huffing, leaping through the air to flatten him for an easy kill, as Grimm pulled back his fist and prepared to skewer it.

Right up until the beast flew sideways, a hole in its skull, a gunshot ringing through the trashed house.

The pale man stood there, staring, disbelieving, watching as the creature faded to nothing, before tilting his head to where the shot had come from. There, in what used to be the doorway of the house, stood a man with a silver revolver. Shaven short white hair and a well kept beard, trimmed smoothly to the face, to match covered his head, lavender eyes staring him down. A crisp white shirt, spoiled only by the black bracers slung over his shoulders, silver cuff-links included, was tucked into deep grey pants, a black belt choking his waist, with black shoes adorning his feet. This man was old, that was agiven, but dressed to summon forth an image of respect... And perhaps fear too. Grimm could feel his eyes on him, glancing him up and down, as they stood their in silence. Soon enough, as he expected, the gun was aimed directly at him. Not an uncommon sight, to be sure, but one that angered him all the same. **Oh great, more morons trying to kill us! Do us a favor, kid, and murder him. He might be a little chewy but I'm dying for something to eat after all this drama.** On any other occasion, he would've obeyed and slaughtered the man where he stood. Maybe peel his skin off with him still alive or just rip out his entrails and watch him go into shock. Maybe get a laugh out of it if he tried to push them all back inside. He could crack open his skull and drink his blood from it all fancy like, enjoy a nice leg of human while he did. But this wasn't any other occasion. This was now, this weird, fucked up, crazy day he'd had. And when he got a familiar pain shooting into his brain, there was no resistance to the information flooding his mind.

 _ **Care. Love. Trust. Loyal. Tender. Sweet. Protective. Good man. Good soul.**_  
 _ **So proud. So strong. So smart. His gun, his mace, protects. Benji...**_

A name. 'Benji'. Was that who this was? It sounded more like a nickname, a sickeningly sweet one at that, and Grimm wasn't about to start calling someone's sweetheart. The information he'd been given before, when he'd entered this place, was useless. Sure, it lead to the house. But why here? Why now, on this day of epic gore and genocide, was something luring him here? And why when this stranger old man appeared too? Beyond a name and perhaps the semi-useful knowledge about the white haired human's combat abilities, there was nothing of value, nothing to say who or what this was all about. It eventually occurred to the devil child that he'd been staring at the man for too long, trying to figure it all out, which incurred the stranger's wrath. "Who are you!? And what are you doing in my home with that monster!" Finger steady on the trigger, one chamber empty, five remain, the old man showed no sign of bluffing. A sturdy old goat if ever there was one, seemingly willing to harm or even kill strangers seen gallivanting with Grimm... Even if he was only being chased by it AFTER he broke into the house. Not that the gunslinger needed to know about that...

"My name is... Lazarus." Faking the best smile he could, Grimm tried to play nice with the man, hand wafting softly in a gesture of greeting as honey sweet tones replaced the usual growl of his voice. It wasn't the first time deceit was required to slaughter the living, he doubted it would be the last. Humans were so naive at times. "And I merely came inside when I noticed the door was broken open. I was in the area checking for survivors but encountered that grizzly beast instead. Had you not come along, I would've had a nasty fight on my hands!" Compliments, 'buttering up' as the term was, was a quick way to weaken a feeble mind. Appease the ego of a fool and they'll draw closer to hear more. Pride, greed, lust, these were the most common baits mankind fell victim too. Those who wanted gold, power, sex, worship, they were the easiest kills to have. After all, you can't blame the beast for biting you when you place your head in its maw. Grimm dared to take a step forward, arms held to the sides in an inviting manner, assuming he had the matter in hand. That was until a shot glanced beside his foot, forcing a snarl from him, as the old man stood stoic before him. "Don't take a step further." He spoke, voice cold as ice. "I don't know you. I don't care to know you. You're a stranger, one who invaded my home, trashed it with a demon, and pretend like you're my friend. Ha! I may be old, but I'm FAR from senile!" Thumb pressed to the hammer, pulling, clicking back to threaten Grimm, he held his aim firm. "Now, I'll ask you again... Who are you? Do you work for those terrorists? Those animal freaks who did all of this?"

Such slander induced a scowl from the monster man. How dare he accuse him of being like those weak minded simpletons! All the 'White Fang', the name he learnt after a run in with the group before, did was run around acting like heroes but slaughtering anyone who got in their way. They were a cult, blind to their own sins, killing to be powerful, to impose their rights over the rights of others. Grimm may have been a violent person, and he may have killed a LOT of people in his time, but he never proclaimed he was the good guy! And if anyone survived, not that they did, he never tried to enforce a new world order on them. Grimm was death, pure and simple. Either he killed you or you lived your life never meeting him. Clear cut. "How DARE you! Do I look like one of those assholes?! They all march around in the same stupid clothing, I'm not wearing anything like that!" The old man nodded toward him, clearing having spotted something to dispute that. "What of that mask on your face then? Looks an awful lot like their's."

Shit. He forgot he was walking around with a skull on his face.

"It's from my tribe. We wear the masks carved from bone to symbolize our kinship with the struggle between life and death." He didn't stutter, didn't stumble, as the lie rolled from his tongue. Cannibalistic murderer he was, Grimm had a knack for coming up with complex falsehoods on the spot. The human didn't seem impressed, so he continued. "We're a nomadic sort, never settling down, and we were passing through Vale when the attack came. I couldn't, in all good faith, just leave without trying to do something. So I allowed them to push forward while I promised to regroup with them afterwards. I have no intent of letting my tribe or the victims here down." He was smirking, proud of himself, eager to keep this lie going as far as it would take him. "You know, you're been interrogating me this entire time but never once told me your name." The stranger huffed, glancing him up and down, before giving an quick mumble of an answer.

"Benjamin Blanc. I live here. I help keep the peace in the neighborhood." It was all he allowed to be told, but was enough for Grimm. _Benjamin... Benji? Seems whatever I heard before was right, but a fat load of good it'll do me here._ The stalemate was drawing on too long for Grimm's taste, though he couldn't just charge the guy without risking a severe case of 'shot dead'. Of all the houses he could've ended up in, he cursed his luck it'd be the house of a militant grandfather.

"Where did you come from?"

It seemed like an odd question. Why would he need to know that? Given he proclaimed he was in a tribe, he didn't have many options. Vale likely had settlements, not clans. Atlas had no chance of being a viable answers. But Vacuo? It wasn't strictly a lie, he had, once upon a time, came from there, and it did provide the best cover for his own made-up background. It seemed like a good enough bluff. "Vacuo. My people tried to settle down there but the Grimm forced us to keep moving. It's not an easy life..."

Benjamin seemed froze in place, emotionless, still, as if thinking about things. As if weighing up his decisions. **This is ridiculous! We could kill him and go on our way, WHY are we still around his old bag of crap!?** Grimm resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _Those weird things I keep seeing? He was one of them. He's related to it all but I just can't tell how! I wanna see what I can dig up, call it a brief stop for context, then we'll go back to killing... Okay?_ A feeling of disapproval shot down his spine, chilling him to his core. **No, it's NOT okay! What the hell is going on with you today!? First the house, then that Ursa, now this! You're sick! You're acting all reasonable and... URGH! You DISGUST me!** That hurt. The other voice had been with him for so long, been so approving and guided him, only for it to start insulting him like this. He felt like he was being punished by a 'father' yet somehow worse. _It's not like that, I'm just curious. Besides, I'm a little worried about you. You've never been that quiet before... What's-_ Before he could finish his thought, his eyes caught the older man's gun lowering, free bullets being exchanged for spent casings, before slotting back into its holster. Was the old coot trusting him..?

"Listen, I'm heading over to Beacon Academy. There's apparently an evacuation going on there, I wanna make sure as many people as possible get out of here." He sighed, hands resting on his hips. "If you really do want to help, then you can come with me. We'll head through the nearby square and cut through the courtyards, it'll take us right there."

Was this real? This guy was actually trusting him, leading him right to a group of easy victims? This... Felt wrong. Too easy. And Grimm wasn't the only one thinking that. **Kill him. The second his back turns, KILL. HIM. You can check out the evacuation alone, make sure it's an easy slaughter, but you CANNOT trust him! He needs to die, RIGHT NOW!** And the other voice made plenty of sense. He knew that. He knew not to trust humans. To trust anyone but himself. But one thing, one single thing, was enough to convince him.

 _ **Trust. Follow. Need to. Freedom.**_

A voice. The same voice. The same feeling from before. Only now the pain wasn't anywhere to be found. Like whispers in his ears, it was like someone was pushing him, guiding him. Which is why he found himself disgusted by what he said next.

"Lead the way."

And would regret it for the rest of his life.

* * *

 **Chapter 3, hopefully produced in a few days, will likely have more filler but I promise to crank up the drama and action before the end of this story. The action is probably going to suck but that's cos I can describe the fights I picture properly... Either way, hopefully there's an feel of mystery in what I've written so far. I want a moment of "Holy crap..." in the end. Note the lack of !. I aim for a stunned silence, not an outburst of surprise. I'm weird like that.**

 **Anyway, hope to give you all part 3 soon. And, if you somehow figured where I'm going with this (maybe you spotted the little clues I'm trying to carefully sew in), don't spoil it for the others!**


	3. Too Human

**So, fair warning, and I'm putting it first cos it's serious: This chapter delves into Grimm's background more. And, for those of you just tuning in? It. Is. DARK. I'm talking the physical abuse and torture of an under-16, followed by mentioning sexual abuse by both men, women, and their pets. Cos, hey, real torture isn't a car battery to your nipples, real torture is abuse in every possible way to destroy your captive or just simply hurt them for fun.**

 **So if you don't want to read that stuff, either skip this chapter or try dodging it.**

 **And yes, I wrote something seriously screwed up but, hey, I wanted to make an adult version of RWBY.**

 **I like to think I did a good job!**

 **So, if you're still here after that warning... Well, good luck to ya!**

* * *

 _ **Protective. Caring. Helping.**_

 _ **Always there.**_

 _ **Always Benji.**_

Grimm let loose a roar as his foot connected with the jaw for a Beowulf, sending it into an abandoned cart nearby, before deftly leaping out of the swiping claws of his brothers. Benjamin, on the other hand, simply stuck to unloading his gun into them, never once missing his target. They'd progressed a little further into the city, toward the school, and found it grew worse the deeper you delved. It seemed like the whole of Remnant's Grimm population was swarming towards Beacon, like an unending ocean of black death eroding the strongholds of man, and it was just pure bad luck that they'd gotten swept up in one of the many waves full of creatures. It'd be a lie to say it didn't hurt seeing what was once his family being murdered, unable to stop it from happening (and knowing full well his 'family' now wished him dead), but the monster man did his best to not to harm his fellow beasts. No claws, no stingers, no ungodly powers that ripped them apart. Just pure and simple blunt force trauma. Anything to keep them out of reach, to keep them from attacking, was enough. It felt good, of course it felt good, to still have the ability to physically overwhelm them without using his abilities but it still lacked the blood-lust his usual gory antics provided. However, the entire situation did provide him with one point of interest. Watching the human beside him had proven an interesting study. Recalling the information that flooded his mind prior, he'd assumed the man was gifted with both revolver and mace. After watching him in battle, it quickly became apparent that wasn't what was meant. A flick of the thumb against a certain part of the grip and it happened, the barrel loaded with bullets splitting in two, pushing out, before sliding down the barrel as it extended and expanding blunted spines from the sides. The gun had become a very jagged mace within a matter of seconds, with the old man beating an Ursa into the floor with a powerful swipe. His finger rested on the trigger, a seemingly pointless thing to do, until he jabbed the flat head of his weapon against the gut of another Grimm. Firing, all six chambers unloaded at once, blasting through and shredding apart those unfortunate enough to be behind his victim.

Granted, this left him without bullets but he seems more than adept at quickly reloading his device. It was an interesting matter to observe, amidst uppercutting a bear beast into his fellows, learning of this human's talents and battle strategies. A small pouch rested along his belt line, seeming to carry his bullets, though he seemed to carry more in his other pockets. Perhaps he'd grabbed as many as possible due to the situation? Regardless, he seemed to grow weary of using too many rounds. The trigger of the revolver grew quickly into disuse, though Grimm couldn't tell if it was for conservation of ammunition or as a tactical use of his mace. Briefly, his focus was drawn back to the battle at hand. Vaulting over a Boarbatusk, somersaulting, he gripped the hog by the fur of its back and suplexed its snout hard into the concrete below. Dead or stunned, he didn't have time to check, having to spirit further down their path... The old coot certainly had stamina. "Up ahead! I know this area, around the corner is a partition gate. If we shut it before they get through, they'll waste time climbing the walls while we run!"

Okay, running instead of fighting... Maybe he didn't have THAT much stamina...

Not that Grimm minded, not wanting to draw out the battle with his familiars any longer than he needed to. They charged forward, cutting a path through what monsters they encountered, and bolted towards the thick wooden doors built within the cold stone walls. A kick to the jaw, a hammerfist to the back of the skull, even simply dodging them at the right time, Grimm needed to get to the door before he was forced to kill anything. He wanted to find a way to make them peaceful again, to get his family back, and was grateful he wasn't armed like his ever annoying companion had been. Through the arch, the two glanced back, witnessing the horde they'd traversed storming towards them. Benjamin quickly reverted his weapon back to its pistol form, swapping out a single round for a deep red shell. "You get the gate, I'll make sure they'd can't break through!" He wished he could disobey that order, but Grimm needed to keep this ruse going. Punching one and round housing the other, the two wooden barriers slammed into their original positions. Mid wondering what the old man was doing, a sudden and loud explosion occurred behind him, giving him all of five seconds to avoid a delivery truck flying towards him. The arrogant pensioner had used the concussive force of a red Dust round to flip the vehicle into position, pinning the doors shut (and, as Grimm thought, any unlucky bastards still alive on the other side). "WHAT THE FUCK!?" He snapped at his so-called companion, understandably upset by nearly being made a demonic pancake. The only response he got didn't help his anger. "No time to explain, we have to move!"

And off ran the old man, spiriting away from the roars and snarls of evil behind the barrier they'd erected. Unwilling to fight more of his family and more than eager to argue with the son of a bitch that nearly killed him, Grimm chased after the man in white, all the while growing concerned by the silence within his mind that once was filled by the complaints of his other self...

* * *

A few blocks away, the two stopped to catch their breath. For the time being, at least, it seemed they'd escaped the Grimm trying to devour them. But it wouldn't be long before they encountered another horde, another flesh hungry wave of devils, as this peace, this respite, couldn't last forever. Pointing back to the way they came, the obvious question was brought beyond Grimm's lips. "What the absolute FUCK happened back there!? You could've killed me, you stupid old fuck!" A glare locked onto his own, both staring the other down, seemingly equally furious. With an exhausted sigh, the older man nonchalantly replied. "As I said, I didn't have time to explain. If you hadn't noticed, those gates aren't designed for hordes of monsters to be pounding on them. I had to pin it shut and the van was the first thing I saw upon getting through. I figured you'd noticed, I didn't expect you to just stand there like-" A claw finger was held, accusingly, inches from his face. "Don't you DARE call me an idiot or, so help me, I'll drag you right back there and feed you to them!" Benjamin scoffed, slapping the hand away, before walking toward their objective. He didn't seem to care much about Grimm, which only made him angrier when something stupid like before happened. Having no real choice but to follow, the demon boy kept pace, huffing in annoyance. He questioned if the old coot was worth all the hassle or if he should've just ignored the promise of easy victims. It didn't help that there wasn't any 'thrilling' conversation between the two, both just as anti-social as the other. That wasn't to say they didn't talk, it just rarely was more than orders or brief directions. But it never stopped Grimm from noticing certain things...

"So who's Maria?"

Benjamin froze in his tracks as the younger monster carried on, smirking as he knew his companion had no choice but to follow despite a clearly distressing topic being raised. "That's none of your damn business." The words were barked out, the emotion in his voice clear enough. And, oh, how this needed mocking. "Really? If it's none of my damn business, then why is the name scratched onto the barrel of your gun? Can't be the gun's name, you've clearly spent time perfecting your weaponry and wouldn't risk damaging something so pristine, so it's a person. A person who's DEAD at that, otherwise why would you before engraving their name into something so valuable to you?" Glancing back, he couldn't help but grin. His detective work was on point, it seemed, considering the murderous stare he was being given. "Must be someone precious to you. I mean, I assume you carry that gun with you everywhere at all times? Sooooo... A sister? Daughter..? Ooooooooooooh~!" A unique sight to behold, Grimm's voice became sing-song to further insult the memory of whoever Benjamin loved. "It was a wifey~! What's she die of, eh? Cancer? Grimm? Your beard hair lodged in her throat?" There was a growl of pure rage behind him, the soft creak of the revolver's grip all he needed to hear to know he'd pushed all of the old man's buttons down. "I told you, it's none of your damn business! Yes, I lost my wife, I put her name on my gun because I miss her, but telling a degenerate like you how she died won't bring her back! So stop asking me stupid questions and let's just focus on getting to Beacon Academy!"

Well, someone had gotten snippy... But, as much fun as it was to mock the old bastard, it still didn't replace the strange feeling that had been following him ever since they left the house. The other voice was silent, gone even, and he'd felt... Wrong. Like something wasn't right anymore, like something had changed. Obviously, it wasn't natural to him to be alone in his head, but that didn't change the feeling in his gut. Ever since the other voice had forced itself into his mind he'd felt out of it, like he was going through the motions, like he wasn't in control of himself. A puppet dancing to someone else's tune. What's more, he felt disconnected from his usual sadistic self. He liked the idea of killing, but he'd already spent far too long without harming anyone (beyond fellow Grimm) and even longer since he last had a good meal of human flesh. It felt wrong being so... 'Normal'. No voice in his head telling him to kill, no cannibalism, no gruesome murder, it was just all so disgusting human! It was like he was betraying his self, like he'd been playing sweet and innocent and cheated on his psychotically violent self. It was wrong on SO many levels, but he knew he couldn't just go back to killing randomly, especially not until he could ally himself with his monster family again. And that was something he worried might never happen again.

They'd covered a few more streets in silence, Grimm in deep thought and Benjamin clearly still fuming from the mockery before, before stopping at a cross-roads. Pointing off into the distance, the bearded man unwillingly broke his refusal to talk. "Over there. That tower. If we head in that direction, we'll reach the evacuation point sooner. And, believe me, sooner IS better with you around." The last part of his sentence had been a snarl entirely, the elderly man clearly resentful of the younger's belittling mannerisms. It hadn't gone unnoticed by the monster beside him. "So rude! You know, I'm starting to get the feeling you don't like me very much." The other simply huffed, storming towards their target in an agitated pace. "Starting? I don't trust you, I don't HAVE to trust you, and all you've done is complain, insult me and try to drag up parts of my past I don't wish to explain!" He stopped and span on his heels, startling Grimm ever so, before jabbing a finger in his direction. "How would you like it if I started attacking your history, hmm? Like your tribe! How does your tribe survive out there? Are your parents with them? How was it growing up as a savage? Go on! Explain to me ALL of your life's worth!" Off he walked again, never once releasing the revolver's grip, forcing the demon in disguise to play tag-along. It seemed like an easy enough request, how hard could it be to drag up a fake past he didn't need to be truthful about? Besides, he did live in Vacuo, it wouldn't be hard to use more of his real past to further expand his lies. "Well, my tribe started off as a village. But, as things normally are, that didn't last long. The Grimm have a habit of ripping apart everything and, when it wasn't then, it didn't help we had trouble with local scumbags who thought it was fun ruining our lives." This was good, this was smart, he could bleed in a few facts among the fiction and they'd seem to perfectly real together. It felt good to lie to a stranger and, perhaps, a little good to talk about his old life too. He didn't miss it, at least he didn't feel he did, but it was still a pleasant memory before... Things happened...

"I was born into it all, to my knowledge, and had a nice family. Strong dad who'd go hunting for us, caring mother who'd do anything to keep the family going..." _Perhaps too much._ "And I suppose you could say I've been wandering for a long time. As for my parents well... My dad apparently left to become a teacher somewhere and my mother..."

 _ **"LET ME GO! LET ME GO! STOP HURTING-" Pain. It's all he really remembered, a small boy being slammed against the wall, barely awake, barely able to breath as he was snatched up by the sick bastard who hurt him. He blacked out, grateful to not witness one of the turning points of his life. But he knew the truth. He wasn't stupid. Even if he didn't, his captors mocked him plenty about it whenever he begged for his parents to save him from the hell they inflicted on him.**_

 _ **"AMINA! AMINA! NO! NO-"**_

 _ **A single shot. A single bullet. 'Straight through her head' they said. A sudden end to the only woman in his life he loved unconditionally.**_

Pain. It was a surprise to feel, after all these years, the pain of losing his mother. To feel that part of him that died the same night she did, before his entire soul was ripped from his body by the sadistic fucks who harmed him so badly. "...She was killed by some bad men. Killed because of some stupid bullshit reason for their own amusement. And they took... Took me in the process..." This was beginning to grow too real, too intimate, too true, but he couldn't seem to stop! Reliving the memory, remembering the horrors of that night, of the nights that followed, of the YEARS of suffering and humiliation at the hands of psychopaths. The words slipped from his mouth, oiled by the scars he thought he'd long since buried beneath the darkness within his heart, before he could stop them. "I was their toy at first. They beat me, burned me, just hurt me in any way they could. They got bored eventually so began to experiment. Forced dust into me in any form they could... It made me blind, made me piss myself from the sudden darkness... And as I got older, they... They..." Hands became fists, claws digging into his palms, blood running down his fingers as the memories came back in pieces. "They violated me... I was still young but they just saw me as property... When they didn't hurt me, they raped me. And when they didn't do that, they did BOTH! Men, women, their fucking PETS, and begging them to stop only made it worse! And every night, every FUCKING night, I wished they slit my throat for what they did to me!" Trembling, tears threatened to fall as he tried to gain control over himself. But the memories came back, harder, faster, tearing open old wounds and forcing them to the front of his mind. Every disgusting touch, every tear soaked choke of pain, he could recall every second of it, every moment making his stomach knot and twist harder and harder.

 _ **"Smile, you little slut! You're finally useful for something!"**_

 _ **Please...**_

 _ **"Look at him squirm! Bet he starts enjoying it eventually!"**_

 _ **Someone...**_

 _ **"One mutt down, two more to good. Now be a good bitch and KEEP YOUR MOUTH OPEN!"**_

 _ **I want to die...**_

 _ **"You little PRICK, you better not pass out before I'm done!"**_

 _ **Kill me! KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL ME! MAKE IT STOP!**_

"Not nice having your past dragged up, is it _Lazarus_?" His false name spat out with venom. That was enough. Enough of a shock, of an interruption, to pull him away from the edge. His eyes dried as he wrestled with his breathing, thinking of how coldly the stranger had treated his entire confession. He's, unwillingly by his own hand, confessed to being an orphan and a sexually abused one at that... And this guy was just snide to him because of how he acted before? Dead wife or not, it was cold hearted even for a normal human. _Then again... I guess I should've seen that coming. I mean, he did want to prove a point, to stop me insulting him... Of course he was going to be like that._ It didn't stop it hurting though. Claws out of his palms, licking the wounds and grateful his tears and returned to the forgotten hell they climbed from, he followed the cruel pensioner in silence. He didn't feel like bringing up the past again... And worried as the feeling of wrong within him grew greater by the minute. Passing a few houses, all of which seemed abandoned rather than destroyed, the two came closer to the outskirts of the courtyards. A plaza lay out before them. Beyond that, more homes and stores, then the courtyards themselves behind yet another wall. It would've been a simple matter, a ten minute walk at most. If the plaza wasn't filled with Grimm, of course. Not that it bothered the monster man in the slightest anymore.

He needed something to hurt right now. Anything but him.

Without so much as a word, he charged forward. He could hear gunshots behind him, Benjamin clearing having to get involved himself, but couldn't care less as his fist connected with the skull of an unfortunate Beowulf. Ducking, dodging, punching another, drop kicking an Ursa, he felt nothing as he took his pain out on what was once family. Gripping the wrist of one unlucky beast, spinning as he did, Grimm gave a roar as he batted a gaggle of creatures away with one of their brothers. It was fun. Fun to be back to fighting, to feel his heart beating hard, to feel the rush of harming others pumping through his blood. But, as enjoyable as it all was, he wanted too much. Needed it too quickly. And so, mid-kicking one Grimm, taking pleasure in the solid CRACK of teeth against his knee, he failed to miss a pair of razor sharp teeth lunging towards his neck. He couldn't move in time, not in the position he was in. Couldn't survive the attack either. So, regretting playing his cards so close to the end of his little trip with the old man, he did what he had to do. Pulling his arm back and snapping it forward, he went to summon the darkness he control to his arm, knowing the spikes of the Beowulf's forearm would protect him...

But the blackness never came. And to his horror, he watched as teeth sunk into his shoulder.

A scream he couldn't hear torn from his throat.

* * *

 **Honestly a little disappointed this wasn't as big as I hoped it was. It's more than Chapter 2 but I feel a little disappointed in myself for not hitting 4000 words like I did with Chapter 1. Still, it's technically filler. Yes, we had drama and action today, but the next chapter will be even MORE drama-y! And the final chapter is gonna be exclusively drama and action, it's gonna be a PAIN to write! Hopefully super big too, I wanna make the ending as epic as possible.**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading and good work putting up with all the dark themes so far! I promise, this is the only chapter with rape talk in it, so it's all good from here on out!**


	4. True Pain

**Okay, so, this was a PAIN to write. A lot of action and I've never done action. Then I had to try stretch it out to make it dramatic, then add drama ontop of the drama later and then I nearly hit a wall when trying to fix the end of the action sequence. But, thankfully, taking an idea from the show and running with the same logic (only make it more chaotic), I fixed that issue. I really hope this chapter turned out good. SO close to being longer than Chapter 1! Urgh! I wanted 4 and 5 to be the longest chapters but I guess this'll have to do.**

 **So, please, do enjoy the penultimate chapter of this Grimm fairytale! (I love saying that...)**

* * *

It was a funny feeling. The odd kind that is.

Being bitten.

Feeling your skin torn and your muscles screaming as something tries to wrench your arm away from your body.

Grimm had never been bitten by anything before. He'd bit his tongue but that was his limit to the experience. So to feel the jagged, unholy teeth of a monster tear into his flesh and damn near successfully rip his limb from his torso... Well, it was different. Blood gushed from the wound, a peculiar cocktail of both pain and numbness surrounding his shoulder, knowing in his heart that the bone was likely broken too. A jaw that strong, on a beast that bloodthirsty, could break through a lot stronger things than a pathetic flesh-bag's skeleton. Even Grimm had broken bones while eating his victims before, sharpening his teeth and licking out whatever juicy bits of gristle and sinew remain caught in any nooks he missed. It was damaged, that he was sure of. Though, in hindsight, he was technically lucky to only have a mauled arm. Had Benjamin not stepped in, not blown the face off of the beast chewing on his giblets, it probably would've been the death of him. He had no strength left. No inhuman powers to summon, no power to fight back, no drive to even do so, no voice in his head to take over and help save his life. For the first time in forever, Grimm had been reduced to the very thing he'd been murdering for the majority of his life. The thing he'd devoured for food. The thing he resented most in the world.

Human. With no abilities, no monster family, and no chance for survival.

So he ran.

Body numb, heart screaming, brain fried beyond all comprehension, clutching his injured arm, the former demon child spirited across the plaza, away from the battle, towards the evacuation site. His elderly companion wasn't far behind, holding back the creatures that chased them both, suddenly the only thing he could trust to keep him alive anymore... And that seemed highly unlikely. Ducking beneath the lunge of a Beowolf, Grimm stumbled with a whimper. Panicking, having never been in this position since the day of his capture, old feelings were flooding back. He'd never grown up, not truly, having had his entire life stolen from him by others. Now here, in the middle of hell, his mind had reverted. No longer was he the genocidal mass murderer. No longer was he the cannibal chewing on the remains of innocent victims. Now he was no more than a simpering child, terrified, frightened, running for his life even though he didn't feel he could. A nearby building exploded with a roar as more creatures burst from the house they'd invaded, forcing Grimm to leap out of harm's way as the old man beat the beasts back. Incapable of protecting himself, the scared blind boy continued to clatter down the street, feet hammering pavement as he desperately tried to find safety. Problem was, in this city filled with death and suffering, that wasn't going to be easy. The street became forked, a side path shooting off away from the main road, and the question of which to take was impossible to answer when being chased by unholy hell spawn that just recently ripped a chunk out of you. To his misfortune, the decision was made for him. Behind him, eager to murder Benjamin, a Boarbatusk slammed into a parked car, flinging it into the air, tossed forward and narrowly missing the boy as he slammed onto the floor. But when he heard crumbling, the car having destroyed the good front half of a bakery and a few support beams in the process, Grimm was forced to scramble to his feet and avoid being turned into a pale white pancake. Throwing his battered body out of the way, brick and mortar hammered the street and pulled him away from his companion. Not that the old coot noticed, rushing down the opposite path, focusing on the beasts attacking him.

He couldn't stay here. He couldn't stay alone. And when some of the creatures vaulted the rubble, he knew he had to get up. The road ahead of him stretched beyond several houses, curving around clusters of homes, but thankfully leading to the courtyards he was so eager to see. The idea of killing those who reached it was gone, replaced only with the desire to get out of this city at all costs. Exhausted, but pressured, he bolted forward, hissing in pain as his bloody shoulder shuddered with each step. He could hear the mixture of beasts behind him, snarling, growling, craving his flesh, lusting after their next meal, thinking nothing more beyond peeling his skin off and feasting on his corpse with unending hunger. He prayed, to anyone or anything listening, that he could find a way to fight them off. Anything to save him, anyone to pull him away from this, to wake up and find it was all a hideous dream and he was going to carry on killing humans with his inhuman family. And as he reached a curve in the path, he decided to curse whatever had answered his prayer. As whatever had had a very sick sense of humor, toying with him like this. A sudden explosion of noise behind him forced him to glance over his shoulder, stopping dead, as his eyes stretched wide in horror. Everything seemed to slow as he realized the cluster of Grimm chasing him had been flattened by a small bundle of houses being crushed within an instant, dust forced into the sky as their bodies rotted in an instant beneath the walls that killed them. But then the ground quaked, rumbling beneath a familiar rapid hammering of feet, multiple red eyes glowing in the darkness and locked onto his far smaller frame. He didn't need to watch anymore, beating an even more frantic escape now, to know what was chasing him. He didn't need to guess what wanted to kill him, didn't need to know what could destroy a building with ease, because he already knew.

And he had no plans of looking at the glowing yellow stinger of the Death Stalker either.

"SHIT! Oh fuck, oh no, no, no!" His feet was in agony as they slammed into the cement beneath, the echoing rapping of several spindly feet practically galloping after him, racing down whatever street he could find. Any Grimm stupid enough to try give chase was crushed in an instant, the huge exo-skeletal monster unwilling to share prey, but that offered little relief to the horror impaling the boy's heart. He pounced over abandoned cars, swiping to the side whenever another stray demon tried devour him, and beat a rabid retreat while increasingly aware of the irony that death was literally stalking him. But that wasn't the only thing he was aware of. All these years, he'd hunted down innocent and guilty souls alike. All these years, he's ripped out their throats, their hearts, their bones without a care, in front of their children, friends, loved ones. He'd tortured them, made them scream, watched them beg for mercy and executed them anyway. He'd force fed some to others, mocking them, laughing at their pain, and consumed them all with his darkness born brethren for fun. He'd ended so many lives. Killed so many people. And it almost always started exactly like this. Started with a chase, the thrill of tracking prey, of capturing them when they least expected it or simply couldn't run anymore. He was being forced to endure the same thing he'd subjected his own victims too. And he didn't like it. The taste of irony was a bitter one, pushing down his throat like coal, sliding down, forced down as it grew stronger, until it pressed on his heart. Till it hurt to breath, hurt to live, till all he could feel was a horrid pain within him, till it felt like hooks were anchoring inside of him, tugging, yanking, ties that bound him to his past, to his sins, to every unforgivable act of evil he'd committed the entire of his new inhuman life. And it kept pulling and pulling till he wanted to scream, wanted to allow the giant creature hounding him to slice through him with its mighty claws, wanted to tear out his own throat and let his own blood drowned the pain out of him, till all that was left was an empty husk and nothing more could be felt, nothing more could hurt, till every inch of his body was rid of his horrible, rancid, sickening, twisted, fucked up feeling within the very depths of his heart!

Guilt. It was a painful burden to bear. And his burden was endless.

But yet, he still ran. Ran like the wind, blood pouring down his arm, panting and huffing, no longer able to feel any inch of his body. Adrenaline had been the only thing left inside of him for a long time now, keeping him going but running out oh so rapidly. And to his horror, having raced around the swerve in the street he sped upon and dared to look back, he found it still wasn't enough. The supersized creature was still keeping up with him, having even gained ground, and he was still a distance from his haven. He tried again, taking the next corner at record speed for a human, but found he was now only a fraction out of reach from the fatal sting of his pursuing nightmare. By the time he finished the third turn, he was now having to dodge the infuriated snaps and stabs of the creature, practically ontop of him now. Only, this time, he finally knew why. Every house, every store, every car, cart, van, bicycle, anything he'd been running around, the Death Stalker had simply plowed right through. Bricks, steel girder, it was nothing in the many eyes of the death. He'd been taking the long route, assuming it would follow, but it never had. Destruction was easier, barely slowing it down, and if he attempted to do the same this time it would easily be able to catch him miles from the gate. The only answer was to do the same, to go straight through the buildings however he could. He didn't have the strength to smash through walls, that was obvious, but he had speed. And that could be enough. So, upon reaching the final twist of the street, leaping away from a stinger jabbing for his heart, he threw his body forward and through the solid glass of a window.

Hurdling dining room chairs, feet clapping on the oak beneath him, and bolting into the next room, he could hear the building crumble behind him, forcing himself to move faster. Through the kitchen, the sound of scraping metal deafening him, out a door left open in haste, across the alley dividing the two buildings, and into another home. Over a clawed sofa, mauled and blood stained, away from the falling ceiling, he jumped an overturned table as the walls collapsed around him, pictures from the pasts of others shattering as they fell, and bursting up the stairs in front of him, each one turned to splinters in his wake, leaping, flying almost, through the first window he could find and flinging himself off of the car bonnet he landed on before it was all crushed beneath the raging hell after his life. He couldn't stop, everything he'd just done making his body scream in pain but the gate being so close, so very, very close! But then his heart sank as he realized, mere minutes from the safety he wanted to reach so badly, that there was a serious problem. The gate was wide, big enough for his pursuer to fit, and a very real problem if it did. He couldn't fight it, not in his current state, and wouldn't have enough time to shut the gate given it was right behind him. Even if he could, it's likely just break through given enough time. It was a Death Stalker after all, it was a literal monster in size alone. After all this effort, all this time, all this pain, it all seemed so pathetically hopeless. That was until he spotted something glinting above. Something that gave him a slither of hope.

It was a portcullis. Not a wooden gate.

The inner most walls near Beacon surrounded it's communication tower, which would naturally be one of the most precious locations and thus defended at all costs. Wooden gates weren't enough, things needed to be... Medieval. Strong, jagged metal lattice hung in two places within the gate's solid stone skin, metal that could prove to be the only way for Grimm to get away from death itself. It was stupid, insanely stupid, to consider what he did. But, that said, suicidally stupid plans always had a habit of working out for him in the past... A bench, a crashed van, the gate itself, it was all he needed to form his plan. The kind of plan that either succeed perfectly or killed you, especially considering he'd now be bait as oppose to someone trying to merely flee. He bounded out of the way of a claw, skipped past a thrust of a stinger, and escape the crushing grasp of the other pincer before rushing towards the gate, leaping onto the bench, firing himself off it and onto the van and launching himself into the air to escape the snapping grip of the exo-skeletal monster... But not out of range of the stinger. As planned, it stabbed for him, charging forward as he fell towards the gate, but narrowly missed, tearing the hem of his already demolished chest garments as it did. Grimm slammed into the solid stone of the floor, crying out in pain as he felt yet more bones fracture, as the glowing tip of the beast became lodged in the portcullis. It thrashed frantically, trying to escape, trying to kill the human it was chasing, but only succeed in destroying the chains that held up the cold metal gate, forcing blunt spears of steel to slam into its skull. The pale skinned boy crawled back as it grew more frenzied, claws lashing out at anything at all, tail snapping rapidly to try dislodge itself, cracking and breaking the walls around it. That was his sign to run, somehow climbing to his feet and stumbling out of the gate house as it collapsed around him, evading slabs of rock smashing beside him. The beast didn't have the same luck, thrusting into the metal over and over, thrashing, flailing, trying to escape, to kill, to destroy, only to have the entire weight of the building collapse down upon it, the second gate slamming into the first, like a hammer on a nail, bi-secting its head clean from its body. Exhausted, collapsing to the floor, Grimm gasped for air. His body was cut in countless places from the glass, he had bruises in bad places, broken bones he could feel resenting him, and clothing so tattered and bloody he'd need to find replacements for when he could finally move. But he was alive. He'd done it.

The Death Stalker was dead.

He rose, clawed hands yanking off the remains of his shirt, exposing the ghostly scarred flesh he'd covered up for so long, and tried to stand. Limping, so tired, beyond injured, but alive, he struggled forward and deeper into the courtyards. _I... I did it... I got here... I'm safe!_ He chuckled weakly, relief flooding his system, forgetting, just for a while, about all the pain he felt within his heart. A brief respite in this nightmare he'd woken in. He didn't want to guess how much blood he'd lost, how beaten his skeleton was, how many nightmares he'd endure after this or how to piece his life back together... He just wanted to enjoy the moment. To smile knowing he'd be okay for a time, even if it would all come crashing down soon. Knowing that, even as a human, he still could survive. It was a bizarre warm flutter inside of him, to feel proud of himself for this reason, and he cherished it. He hobbled along, fatigued but washed over by a fuzzy glow, and allowed his eyes to roll shut, just enjoying the sound of silence for the moment. But then the voice came back, the one that had invaded his mind, told him to follow Benjamin, made him feel all he had... And it was clearer than ever before.

 _ **Pain. It's what I felt. I lost my husband. Lost my child.**_  
 _ **The roses are gone now too. My house. My home.**_  
 _ **Everyone's in pain. Everyone's suffering.**_  
 _ **The Grimm are hurting them. Those terrorists are hurting them!**_  
 _ **It's time you understand! Time for you to feel like they do!**_  
 _ **Open your eyes and witness the pain of your people!**_

Blind eyes snapping open, his body was struck with endless agony, a symphony of lives flooded his mind. A family hiding as White Fang gunned down their friends outside, teenager boy crying as his heart breaks and begs for her to be saved, a child begging for their father to wake up, a limb sliced off by a heartless terrorist, a man screaming in tears as his wife is ripped apart by Grimm, a soul unprepared for death but so willingly embracing her horrible fate, more and more lives flooded his mind to the point he felt like he was screaming. All the memories he'd been forced into before, all the pain he'd felt getting to this point, all seemed hollow in comparison to feeling the anguish of every single soul in the city. Vale was SCREAMING in pain, thousands of lives either ending or being destroyed, and he could hear them ALL! Every man, every woman, every child, screaming, suffering, crying, dying inside as they watched their world burn, their friends die, their loved ones disappear, everything was chaos! Chaos HE'D played a part in, chaos he'd once enjoyed and inflicted on so many people before!

"No! No, no, no! Stop it! STOP IT! I don't- I don't want to feel this! I DON'T WANT TO ANY OF THIS!"

 _ **Open your eyes!**_

"STOP IT!"

 _ **See the pain of these people!**_

"PLEASE!"

 _ **Hear how their hearts scream together!**_

"STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!"

...And all was silent once more, as if stilled by the scream for mercy that torn at his throat. Grimm stood there, trembling, choking back sobs, staring up to the heavens as his head was thrown back from his plea. Collapsing to his knees, his hands clung to his face, voice wavering. "I... I'm sorry... I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean... I..." Slowly pulling his palms away, he glanced to his claws, shuddering, tears threatening to fall, as his breath caught in his throat. "...What have I become...? I just... I wanted to be a hero, to make my dad proud, to stop people going through what I did and I... I'm a killer! A fucked up psychopath! I fucking ATE people! I'm not a hero! I'm not! I-I just...!" Gripping his lengthy locks, he yanked on his hair, wrestling to keep himself from a breakdown. After all the years of surviving, all the years of having that other voice guide him to safety, Grimm had finally seen himself for what he truly was: A monster. A hideous freak of nature that had only ever harmed or killed others. The thick veil of darkness over his mind had finally been destroyed... And he hated what truth he saw beneath it. He felt sick. Sick enough that he couldn't help himself expelling the grizzly content of his stomach onto the cobbles beneath him, chest burning, unable to stop himself shivering. He knew he could never make up for all the deaths he'd caused, never repent for his sins, never return the lives he'd taken, the ones he'd cut short. Had it all been revenge on humanity for what the bastards who tortured him had done? Or was his naturally twisted? Did he really want all of this, deep down, or had he been a puppet to something far sinister? Just as it felt like he couldn't fend of his tears anymore, he was startled by a sudden voice from behind.

"Lazarus... What are you doing?"

The old man was alive. Pushing himself to his knees, Grimm looked back, the pensioner no worse for wear beyond a few scratched and stains on his clothes, a stern and questioning look on his face. Wiping whatever was left on his lip, the pale boy slowly stood up. "I was... I er... Just resting." His answer was met with a raised brow, clearly not being believed, as he slowly wobbled his way deeper into the courtyard. "Resting? While kneeling over a puddle of vomit? Either you're very troubled or not telling me the truth." It was funny how he knew this was a lie, yet not the entire ordeal so far. Fingers stroking over his scalp, Grimm gave a sigh, too exhausted to pretend anymore. "I just... Everything just sunk in. All the death, the chaos, all these people just... Suffering. It's... It's just wrong." Voice barely just above a whisper, he found he couldn't find his usual uncaring tone anymore. This was all so horribly serious now, a state of mind he'd never found himself in before. "No matter what we do, no matter if we get to the evacuation point or not, people will die. Even if we save some, others are already lost. And even if we saved everyone, the scars of tonight will still linger with them! There's no way of escaping the pain, no way of freeing them from it all, and it'll be a blight on their past till the day they die!" He didn't know how anyone could live like this. Live remember it all, carrying their guilt, their pain, hearts and minds and souls scarred time after time. Being human... It was a terrible infliction upon all living creatures. "I just... Don't see any happy ending to this. It's all so hopeless-" The ground beneath them rumbled as a roar echoed through the sky, the seemingly endless shadow of a Grimm he'd never seen before flying overhead. Was that... A DRAGON!? And it had headed right towards where the evacuation was supposed to be, towards the tower, dropping off more Grimm as it did! If anyone was there, they'd be overrun. And if no one was there, then the evacuation would fail before it began! He didn't want to see, to feel, anymore pain tonight, he just wanted it to all end! Even in his current state, he couldn't just stand by anymore. Not after everything he'd suffered... "Benjamin, did you see that!? That thing is going to kill everyone at the evacuation, we have to do something!" He tried to rush forward, as quickly as an severely injured man could, desperate to try save the lives of any unfortunate soul who was promised safety beneath the overgrown reptile, when he was stopped dead in his tracks. "I'd worry more about yourself, _Lazarus_." The way his name had been said should've told him something was wrong... Turning around, disbelieving, unwilling to accept this man would so willingly abandon people he himself had proclaimed he'd go help, Grimm moved to argue with the old bastard.

Only to find a revolver held an inch from his face.

"What... What do you think you're doing!?" Was this a game? Did he lie, just need someone to get to the evacuation too? Did he want to get something out of him? Money? Drugs? A patsy for something? All the old man did was smirk, giving a short huff as he did. "You really are stupid, aren't you? Is Lazarus even your real name or did you think you could lie to me?" Grimm stepped back, questioning, confused, breathing heavy as panic set in. He knew?! How did he know!? And if he did, why did he agree to let him come anyway? "Wait, hold on, what about the evacuation!? They need us, you said so yourself, you-" A sudden loud bark of a laugh cut him off, the hammer of his pistol cocked back as a grin spread across his face. "There is no evacuation! I only told you that because I wanted to get you hear alone! To make you suffer for what you did because, no matter how much you lie, no matter how you try to twist the truth, I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!" It seemed wrong, seeing the old coot screaming at him, rage flooding his normally stoic features. Who did he think he was? Did he know who Grimm really was? What he'd done? Was he related to someone he killed? That didn't make sense, otherwise he'd know Grimm could've killed him on the spot early, before his powers were ruined. There was too many questions, not enough time, not enough to put together to explain why this man was about to shoot him! He'd never met this man, he was sure of that, but that was it. Why was he so angry, so eager to kill a perfect stranger, and go to all this length to kill him alone? Another step back, only this time the furious elder step forward to match. "...How? How do you know who I am? I've never met you, how could you possibly know me!?"

The bitterness of the chuckle that followed added a strange sense of dread to the entire matter. Like a noose was being wrapped around his neck and he couldn't stop it. A car crash waiting to happen. "Oh... We've met. You just don't remember me. You see..." Benjamin's face fell, a resentful stare locked into Grimm's white eyes, his voice becoming a growl. And the second he spoke, Grimm's world self-destructed...

"I'm your father."

* * *

 **So... Hands up, anyone see any of this coming? Very Darth Vader, I know, but it'll all be fleshed out in the next chapter. Also, surprise! I popped a few references into the story to give you a time frame of when it happened: Three of the things what Grimm felt occurred in series 3. Furthermore, the dragon also appeared... Though I worry the dragon came after Cinder and Pyrrha began fighting... In which case, my story's a little off factually. Either way, I promised to make it canon-friendly. The evacuation was a fake, thus it never appears in the main series, thus all of this is able to occur outside of the canon's lens! Well, sometimes you get tired of writing AUs and fluff pieces after something's ended, I figured it's about time my stories have a heartbeat. And provided I never write anything that clashes with the main story (e.g. Ruby meeting Grimm), then I get the free fuzzy feeling of knowing my story is alive and not just fanfiction. A different story in the same world, just like how the real world works!**

 **Anyway, I really hope you guys are loving this, it feels awesome seeing people follow this, and stay tuned for the final chapter of When I Fall! Needless to say, pasts will be revealed, chaos will happen, truths will come out, and some more curve balls are heading your way! Stick around!**


	5. The Suicide Of Death

**I finally did it! I wrote up the fifth chapter and it almost killed me! Christ, why is action so hard to write? The drama I had down to a T, I got good chunks of that pre-written, but action is still my weak point. It never lives up to my expectations, while drama (and romance, which I'm kinda known for normally) are easy to churn out. I don't know, maybe I should practice by writing out a graphic description of a bi-sected human and try find inventive ways of detailing how the body is ripped apart.**

 **I'm rambling, aren't I? Ignore me. Enjoy the final chapter! (excluding the epilogue, obviously!)**

* * *

 _ **I could blow up the truck, kill him, make it looks like an accident...**_

"No... No, that's... That's not true!"

 _ **I'm not about to let some rabid dog kill him! Only I get to end his life!**_

"THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!"

 _ **Damn it! He isn't here! I need to find him. I won't be denied my vengence!**_

"You're not my father! You're not! YOU'RE NOT HIM!"

Hot tears poured down Grimm's face, dripping over the battered skull that adorned his face, trembling as he reeled from this horrific statement. This man, this cold hearted man of few words and so much hate, was not the father who loved him. The father who was teaching at Beacon, who cared greatly for his wife and son, who would never seek to harm his boy no matter what he was. "You're not him! My father is a teacher, he's a good man, he loves me! He's not YOU! HE'S NOT YOU!" To say he was being delusional was an understatement. Part of him knew, deep down, his mother had been lying to him all those years ago. Knew that his father wasn't here, wasn't teaching, wasn't alive and well and waiting for his son to show up and make him proud of all his heroic acts. He knew his father was dead, but his heart had other plans. It clung to that ideal, that fantasy, the last good thing in his life after it all went to hell, and brought him here, now, on this very day. To find his father, to show him how strong he was, to have a family, a real family, outside of the primal survival that the Grimm had instilled in his mind. But hearing this, a truth he prayed was a lie, threatened to shatter that illusion. Threatened to destroy the last good thing in his life and replace it with this repugnant, bitter, evil man infront of him. The man he'd known as a father would never do this. Would never lie to him, never hurt him, would love him. This man, smirking, laughing, enjoying his pain... He would NEVER be his father. "Believe me, I wish it wasn't true either." The old man shrugged, his smile fading to a look of pure disappointment. "Do you think I'd really want a monster like you as a child? Who'd want a son that went around killing every one? You may not think I know, but I know better than you do. All you've ever done is kill. It's all you know. And it's about time someone put you down instead." His aim was steady, unrelenting, unwavering, barrel lined up perfectly with the boy's brow. He had no intention of missing.

"I bet you're wondering... How could I know? We've never met, not like this anyway, but I knew who you were the second you mentioned Vacuo. I was going to kill you until you mentioned that, figured you were one of those animal people causing trouble, but I knew I had to keep you alive once it all began clear." Bitter irony kicks Grimm in the stomach once again. Had he not mentioned him home, not given him that knowledge, he would've fought. Grimm would've killed him where he stood, ripped out his spine and left him to rot, and everything would've been avoided! No pain, no confession, no suffering a long trip with a man who wished to kill him anyway, it would've been so much simpler to just end the entire ordeal then. But he'd spoken, apparently changing the man's plans, and was being tortured for it. Being punished. Benjamin spread his arms, mocking, aware that his victim had no strength left to fight him, grinning as he did. "See, I see this as a divine intervention. I never was a religious person, but this? This right here?" Fingers flicked between the two before raising his arms higher. "This is nothing short of a miracle. After all these years, all these days of knowing I'd done wrong back then, I can finally make things right! Every cut, every bruise, every SECOND you're in pain, it's what you deserve for what you are!" The old coot's face stretched into an insane grin, eyes wild, taking deep pleasure in the entire situation. His stoic nature was now lost, replaced with a disturbing level of rabid enjoyment in the pain of who was supposedly his own flesh and blood. He cackled, loving it, bathing in Grimm's agony, in his disgust, and continued on his rant. "There never was an evacuation! Never was going to be innocent people running for their lives here, I just said that because I KNEW you'd not be able to resist coming here to hurt them! I'm no fool, I knew what you were the day you were born and should've made you suffer back then! But now I can make you pay for your sins! Pay for every life you ended, every soul you tainted, like the demon you are!"

Choking back the pain, shaking his head in disbelief, Grimm tried to find the words to get answers. Tried to find what to say. Instead, he only succeed in sounding like a scolded child, begging his parents to forgive him. "How... H-How do you... Why do you hate me..?" Blind eyes looked for an answer they could never find, body quivering, heart broken, stomach knotting up, what little soul he had dying inside of him. How was it possible to never know someone and be resented so much that they want you to feel like this? Hadn't he suffered enough!? Within the last hour, he'd be bitten, cut, bruised, broke bones, battered, nearly squashed several times, and been forcibly made human, enduring the pain of thousands within just a small space of time, within seconds of feeling like others did again. How was this fair! Why did he deserve to be afflicted with this curse, with this torture, after all these years? The pensioner before him didn't seem amused at his question, as if the word 'hate' wasn't strong enough to describe the malice within his soul. "Why? Because you're a sick psychopath who hurts others for fun." He scoffed, acting as if the answer was obvious. But there was no emotional connection, no real drive to push a man to... Well, this version of insanity. Despite his like for the boy, however, he seemed to be willing to tell him the truth. Though likely only to see him hurt more... "I knew your first victim. Married to her. She was my wife, pregnant with my son..." His eyes fell, a scowl across his face, as he recalled the past Grimm never knew.

"Pregnant with you."

 _ **"Béni! Béni! Come quickly, the baby's kicking!" They were outside, having gone for a small walk, a little exercise and fresh air, just to get away from the house. Velvet locks of silken hair caught in the wind, an exhausted woman resting against a small wall as her hands lay on her stomach. Her husband, jet black hair, looking sharp in a crisp white suit, rushed to her side. "Maria, what is it! Is he okay? Nothing's wrong, is there!?" Typical of him... It was adorable, really, watching him panic over the baby so easily. The second she'd told him she was expecting, he'd practically locked her up and tried to guard her from nature itself! But it was that caring, protective, perhaps a little obsessive part of him she loved. He was a good man, someone who would never let you down, never break your trust, and would never leave you when you needed him most. With a playful chuckle, she flicked his nose with a single finger, forcing a sharp gasp of pain from him. "It's all fine, you big old doof! But he's kicking! Quick, feel! Feel!" A giggle, sweet enough to kill a man, followed as she gripped his wrist and softly placed digits acrossed her hefty gut. She wouldn't deny she felt like an balloon at times, every inch of her sore and swollen and having to pee SO MANY TIMES, which was perhaps her biggest bug bear, but she wanted this. It'd be worth it in the end. Their son, they're beautiful boy, would have all the love he needed. She could take care of him, rest, take her time going back to working, and Béni would cover the expenses while she did. Being a big shot lawyer, even if he had only recently started before they conceived, had a few benefits. Sure, he'd be drowning in paperwork, but he never failed to make time for his wife. Little things, breakfast in bed on a weekend, flowers as an apology for being home late, post-it notes left here and there telling her she looked beautiful despite her feeling ugly in her current state. She felt blessed, lucky to have found someone so willing to share his heart with her. It had been a rough road, love very rarely was smooth sailing, but this would be the last time she'd ever need to give her heart away. She regretted nothing, happy, content, now with a family on its way...**_

 _ **Life was perfect. Beyond perfect.**_

 _ **The black haired man softly caressed the bump before him, waiting, unconsciously holding his breath, till a gentle tap echoed across his palm. Huffing, gasping, shocked and smiling, his eyes lit up with glee. "I felt it! I felt it! That's my boy! A fighter, he's gonna come out of there screaming his lungs out and looking for a challenge!" Maria rolled her eyes, fingers stroking through the short, slick hair of his beloved. He acted like this every time there was a kick. Anything baby related happened, boom, husband. Any twinge, any kick, any random mood swing, he was right there... Or right off, depending on the mood swing in question! Well, she was fine having him escape if she got snappy. Better to be angry he's absent than to accidentally get into a fight with him. As adorable as it was to see him reduced to a cheerful dad every time the baby kicked, she preferred the baby didn't use her bladder as a punching bag! Pregnancy, while ending with a beautiful baby boy she'd love till the day she died, was pure hell when you were the one carrying the child. She'd even called other women out on it, never one to keep her opinions to herself, refusing to believe in the 'miracle' of childbirth when she'd woken up at six in the morning to use the bathroom, ate half her weight in dill pickles, been angry, depressed, then angry again (with a hint of arousal she refused to acknowledge!), and all of this while aching in every inch of her body. Still... Least she knew her baby was in good hands when he was born. "So, hun, I was thinking... Did you think of any names today? I mean, you've been kinda name crazy recently and I haven't really decided yet myself." Her husband's attention shot from the belly he petted to lock into fusca eyes. He was practically exploding with excitement... Oh boy... "Abraham sounds good! Oh! Or David! Christian is a strong name, or maybe Alexander! Stephen, with a ph, not a v. Oh, oh! Or maybe something a little different, like Mars or Francœur!"**_

 _ **Another eye roll, another long day of having him ramble off names. It kept him busy, and was cute at first, but now it was more a distraction to keep his brain occupied off of panicking. She was reaching her due date, so could pop any day soon, and he'd gotten a little restless with the entire matter. She understood he just wanted them both to be safe but, slowly leading him back home, it was a little excessive at times. Sure, this wasn't Atlas. They didn't have the best technology in the entire world, but it wasn't like she was about to give birth surrounded by Grimm! Even if she was, it was a safe bet he'd protect her to his dying breath. He was good like that... And a little stupid, if she were to be honest. Passing the roses she loved so much, it seemed he'd finally ran out of name ideas and was just listing what he was looking at. While 'Thorn' had the capability of sounding like a good name, who in the right mind would call their son 'Porch'?! "Benji. Sweetie. I think your brain needs a bit of a rest. You're talking crazy again." Tittering, she watched as he shot puppy dog eyes her way. "Maria!" He whined. "I told you not to call me that! It makes me sound like your dog." She unlocked the front door, pushing into their living room, head shaking in amusement. "If you were my dog, I'd have less of a mess to deal with! But, if it means being married to you instead of a dog, I guess I'll take my chances." Spinning on her heels, she leant in and gave him a quick peck on the lips, smiling warmly as she did. Béni flustered, still not used to such sudden and public displays of affection. At least, not while he was aware of them, obsessive belly rubbing and babbling nonsense to it being completely find in his baby drunk mind. Maria didn't have much planned for today, waddling into the living room and slumping on the couch with a relieve sigh. Her feet screamed in pain, but she knew she'd have to get up at some point soon. Even if it was just to go to bed. "So, did the doctors say anything about what he might inherit? I mean, you said your father had a semblance but you never showed any signs of one... You think he'll maybe be lucky enough to join Beacon or..?" Béni perched on the sofa's arm, looking down at a wife who'd seen easier days, eyes sparkling in wonder and curiosity. Brushing a few stray stands of hair from her face, she shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, daddy always swore I had a gift but I think he was hoping I did... Maybe he'll end up like us? I mean, it'd be safer, right? No hunting Grimm, no deadly missions, no chance of us hearing second hand that he's gone..." A firm hand came down on her shoulder, gently squeezing as she glanced up to meet the comforting smile of her spouse. "Sweetheart... If he's got the abilities, if he can save people, be a hero, we can't stop him. People with a semblance, they always end up finding their way into trouble like it was their fate. It's better we let him be ready and be proud of him than try to prevent him from finding his place in the world. And if he's like me, I'll make sure he can look after himself regardless! It'll be fine, I promise." She knew he was right. She didn't want to admit it, ever the panicking parent, but she knew it. But what proper parent didn't want to protect their child? Didn't worry about them? She just wanted her little boy to be safe, to outlive them before, maybe start a family too, and she'd be happy. And she knew, somehow, that everything, would be-**_

 _ **"I think my water just broke."**_

 _ **A disaster. Everything would be a disaster! They weren't even close to the hospital and the baby was on the way and the sofa was stained and WHY did she wear her favorite Summer dress today!? Bolting off the sofa like someone had just stabbed him in the rear, her husband was understandably panicked as well. "What!? REALLY!? Oh! Oh, uh, I-I erm... I'll call the doctor! No, no, that'll take time. AH! We'll take the bus! Wait, that's stupid..." Of all times for Béni to lose his ability for thought, she begged to know why at this exact second. A hand shot out to latch onto his wrist, fingers digging into the arm of his shirt, a vice like grip to yank him down to her level. "Benji... Baby... Listen to me closely." She tried to stay calm. She really did! But, when you've got a little person trying to violently force their way out of bad places, your patience tends to run the opposite direction. "GET THE DAMN CAR!" Benjamin pulled back, looking as if a lightbulb had just been turned on somewhere inside him, and snatched the keys from the fireplace. "Car! Yes! We have one of those! So, I'll just- Yes!" Running out the door, Maria forced herself up and grunted in pain with each step towards the door. The next hour had become a blur of trying to get to the hospital quickly, checking her health, checking her progress, and generally trying to keep her husband from blacking out. She failed to understand how she was the one giving birth yet he was the one hyperventilating... Day turned to night, time ticking by, as they waited for their boy to be born. Eventually, the time came. And Béni was right there by her side, holding her hand, enduring every scream that was forced out of her. Push after push, each one more painful than the last, she did everything she could to see her beautiful baby boy, to change her marriage into a family. The moon hung high in the sky by the time it was all over. With one final effort, the pair was presented with a small boy, screaming his lungs out into the night. Quickly cleaned up and wrapped, Béni reached to hold his son for the first time. "Oh my..." His voice wavered, tears threatening to fall. This was it. They were finally a family. "Maria... Oh, Maria, he's beautiful! He-" Something was wrong the second he looked back at her. She was still. Quiet. Pale. Alarms fired up on the machines and the staff present went into a frenzy, rushing to her side, one of them having the sense to quickly escort him out of the room with the newborn.**_

 _ **He never expected that to be the last time he'd see her alive. A sleeping angel. A mother.**_

 _ **They'd taken the boy off him for a while, running tests, maybe even to stop him doing something crazy when the child needed him, but that only left him alone as he sat in silence. Hours seemed to pass before anyone had any news for him. His wife had been pronounced dead shortly after giving birth. She'd had a heart condition, something on her father's side, passed down, skipping a generation if they were lucky, and probably the same thing that killed him, but never knew about it. Nobody did. Had they, they would've advised she never had the child in the first place. But he knew her. She would've. She would've gone ahead with it, bared the boy, given birth, died all over, because she just wanted to be a mother to a child she made. A few hours ago, she'd been happy, smiling, loving. Now, she was dead. Gone within seconds of what should've been a wonderful memory. Dawn was still miles away by the time he returned home, son in hand, laying him down in his crib and returning to the darkness of the living room. The only strength he could find lead him to the drinks cabinet, only rarely used but stocked for any purpose, as he snatched the first bottle of bourbon he could find. It didn't last. None of the bottles did. Gin, bourbon, wine, it did nothing to fill the void spiraling inside of him. Six bottles in and he was only just able to control his body, a random knife he couldn't remember grabbing from the kitchen scratching crude letters into the throat of his gun. He'd head upstairs, polishing off another bottle, before stumbling into the boy's room. Resting on the bars of the crib, staring down at the newborn, he thought back to how this was the last of his wife. Thought about how he was all the family he had now. Thought about how, without this child, his wife would still be alive. And then he started to notice something. Something... Wrong. The shadows seemed to be moving, like waves, pushing around the infant's sleeping form. They kept going, picking up speed slowly, before lapping over his skin, washing over him, soaking him in the misty dark grey of night. They pushed in, soaking into his body, being absorbed, veins of black scattering along his skin. It was a nightmare, watching his son be consumed by the dark. He wanted to scream, wanted to protect his son, when he suddenly felt eyes on him. Looking up to his son's face, two demonically red eyes glowed, bloody cracks descending down his cheeks, razor sharp white teeth grinning, laughing, bellowing out a deep, insanely, twisted laughter, mocking him, mocking his dead wife, taunting him, the image burning into his very soul! He closed his eyes to look away, to get the horrific picture from his mind, shaking his head, barely able to breath, but found he couldn't resist staring back into the crib.**_

 _ **A crib in which a newborn lay, sleeping, unaware his father is even in the room.**_

 _ **But Béni knew better. His wife didn't die from some heart condition. Didn't die from a sleight of fate's hand. No, she died because of their son. Because this monster, this little devil, had stolen her life the second he was born! He wasn't human, he couldn't be, not after what he just saw! And how could he bring up a demon child? One that would go on killing, go on to break the hearts of others, just like he did today by killing his beloved Maria. He couldn't allow it. But, as he drew his pistol, aiming it down at the child's fragile skull, he found it impossible to pull the trigger. Impossible to put the creature down. Not because it was his son, not because it was human or he had a change of heart, but because it was part of Maria. He could see her, ever so slightly, in his face. And he could never do that, never harm his love, never find the will to do so when the memory of her face was so fresh in his mind. So he thought to himself: How do you kill a child without killing it? It all pieced together within minutes. He had a car. The world was full of monsters just like the boy. But he couldn't do it in Vale. If the body was found, if the child lived, if anyone saw him leave it, it'd all come back to haunt him and they'd never believe him. Plus, Vale wasn't entirely unpopulated like other kingdoms. But Vacuo... It was a harsh and unforgiving land, full of Grimm, hard to survive in, and far away enough so no one would ever ask where the boy was. He'd just say he was living with relatives as he's unable to cope being a single parent. No one could prove it. It was perfect.**_

 _ **So, just before dawn, the drunken fiend loaded his son into the car and sped off into the night. It took longer than he liked, much too long, but helped him sober up. But he eventually found himself deep in the heartless sunbaked lands of another kingdom, walking away from his car, child in hand. "You're going to pay for what you did, demon..." He mumbled bitterly to the boy as he went about his way. "Others won't see it, they're all blind, but I know the truth! You might trick me into caring for you, stop me from killing you, but I have no qualms about leaving you out here to die!" He'd come far enough. Kneeling down, he lay the baby on the ground beneath him, glaring down at it, thinking only of his lost love. "You don't deserve to live after what you did. My Maria is dead. She died because you ended her life! You're nothing but a sick little murderer and I'll have NOTHING to do with you!" He probably wasn't even aware he was shouting, startling the boy, forcing him wail in distress. But he didn't care. Standing up, practically snarling at him, he turned heel and began to leave. "Death is too good for a monster like you, but it's all I can do! For the sake of everyone around me! For my wife!" Disappearing into the distance, returning to his car, Béni drove home and hit the bottle harder than ever before. He lost his job after one too many drunken nights, blacking out and forgetting how most of his week even played out, hair turning white and house running into disrepair. He'd eventually break his habit, fighting his alcoholism after being forced to sell everything but his wife's jewelry to keep eating, and devote his life to a simple job, never allowing himself to grow close to others again. His Maria was all that was on his mind. And while he loved her, as days past, he found himself regretting now personally killing his son when he had the chance. His weakness faded, a pure unchecked malice replacing the space love should've been for his own blood, wishing he'd took the time to end the monster with his own bare hands.**_

 _ **But fortune wasn't on his side when he'd left the boy in the wildness that night. Moments after he left, a hunter, drawn by cries of a baby, discovered the newborn and abandoned his hunt to race home. He'd burst into his house, smiling, his wife first shocked than stunned at the sight before her. "Look! Look! I just- I-I- Just found him! Out in the wild! It's a sign, I know it is, it's a sign!" He rushed to his wife, embracing her with the child, as tears ran down both their faces. They'd been trying for months, trying so badly to have a child, but nothing happened. They just couldn't, both biologically unable to conceive, but oh so unwilling to give up. But now, with this child, they could be a family. The boy had given them a gift simply by being their to be found and, in turn, they'd gifted him with a family that loved him.**_

 _ **"I love him... I love him so much, I never want to let him go!"**_

 _ **"Amina... Let's call him Amina!"**_

"Don't you get it now? This, you returning here, is life's way of giving me a second chance! To finally put you down like I failed to do so all those years ago!" He grinned, beyond insanely happy... Though mostly just insane, his hate for the boy clearly leaving scars on his mind that no amount of talk or medicine could heal. But that wasn't what caught Grimm's attention. Something he'd said stuck in his mind. A little detail the old coot had so casually skimmed over, as if he was tired of retelling his story or as if he didn't care. Something that, with good reason, sent the pale boy into a hysterical fit of emotions. "ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE!?" Not exactly his best opening line yet sadly not his worse... "You- You tried to kill me, left me out in a DESERT kingdom to starve or be eaten by monsters, all over what you THINK you saw!? You were drunk! You said so yourself! You could've just imaged it all and my mother, your WIFE, died for a freak natural occurrence that I had no control over!" He could see the rage building behind the old man's eyes, his words clearly wiping away all the joy he was taking in making the other suffer. Grimm being Grimm, he couldn't help but poke the bear even further. "You tried to kill me because you wanted someone to blame! You wanted something to hurt because you were hurting! Don't you fucking DARE deny it, I know it's true! You got rid of me because you weren't man enough to take care of a child alone, didn't have the balls to put your own pain aside and protect what you should've loved! You're not fit to be called my father!" A smirk, dark and twisted, crossed his lips, his old cocky self surfacing for the first time in a while. "Your wife would be ashamed."

That's what pushed him over the edge. With an enraged roar, Béni launched himself over to Grimm, kicking him square in the chest and slamming him to the floor, swapping his gun out for its mace form and swiping down hard at the battered boy beneath him. Without the power to fight back, his son could do nothing but curl up, trying to block the blows but still being stuck over and over again, skin tearing in places, bleeding more, as he was beaten mercilessly by his furious father. His skull mask, which had survived its trip through hell with him, shattered into pieces as he was struck in the face, reduced to next to nothing as it fell to the floor. But even without his focus, without the one thing keeping him from turning completely into a monster, he still couldn't fight back. There was no dark power to rip apart his enemies, no blackened skin and glowing red eyes, no inhuman strength and resistance eating through his aura supply like no tomorrow. Right now, he was just a human being abused by his parent, being punished for mouthing off at him, for standing up for himself. This wasn't a fairytale anymore, there was no heroes to save him, no villains who'd meet their end, no super powers or happy ending. It was just one very bad father hurting someone he should've loved without restrictions. Instead, a violent crack across the jaw bone ending his beating, Béni laughed and kicked his son in the ribs over and over. "You think you're in control?! You think you're better than me, HUH!? You're nothing! NOTHING!" Another kick, this time laying Grimm out on the floor, pain ebbing through his body, tears running down his cheeks as he stifled his sobs. Somehow knowing he was supposed to be his parent made each kick, each slam of the mace, hurt even more. "You're nothing but a little freak, a little fucked up psychopath who wanted to hurt people! I should've killed you when I had the chance, before you could hurt anyone, but now I can make sure they get the justice they deserve!" Stomping on his bite wound, the cruel bastard smile as the younger male screamed in pain, tears flowing freely as he couldn't stop himself crying aloud anymore. Blood pooled beneath his shoulder, dizziness overcoming Grimm as his body reached its limits at long last. By the time it ended, he could barely feel a thing, his body unable to register anything but pure agony anymore. "Pathetic little shit. Look at you, crying like a child, all because someone's finally doing to you what you did to others! Doesn't feel good, does it?" The vicious pensioner stepped away, mace bloodied, with a huff of amusement. But his victim wasn't done. Not yet. No matter how much is hurt, he couldn't stop himself being a little terror in his own special way. "What... What's the matter, you old... Old fuck..?" He panted, forcing himself up, trembling, shaking, unable to truly stand anymore, kneeling on his own blood, black hair matted and blind eyes giving a half-awake glare at the man who resented him. "You... You got me... This far... Don't have that balls to kill me..?" He chuckled, still crying but unable to resist mocking him. What little strength he had surged through his body, giving him one last sociopathic hurrah. "COME ON! Shoot me, mother fucker! You wanted it! Don't be a little bitch and kill me! KILL! ME!"

There was silence, briefly, as he considered if the old man really was giving up on the idea of killing him. If he had been bluffing, instead wanting to just torture him, and couldn't back up his threats with actual death. But then there was a click, the sound of metals sliding against eachother, before he could hear the hammer of a gun being pulled back. Within seconds of being insulted, Béni had kept his word. With one fluid movement, spinning around, gun aimed, he pulled the trigger, intent on adding an extra hole or two to Grimm's skull. And Grimm, too weak to move, to resist, to even fight it, knelt there. Waiting. Expecting. Eyes rolling shut, embracing the death that was approaching. _This is it. This is how it ends. Huh... Guess I never prepared for this but... At least it's over. I can't... Hurt anyone else._ It felt like forever, waiting for the bullet to hit him, the entire world slowed to a crawl as it spun gently towards his brow. But, despite his lack of real choice, this was his decision. He wanted this. Wanted it to end. Only... Not everyone agreed.

 _ **Please don't do this! Don't let him kill you!**_

The voice from before, when he came to Vale, was clear as day now. It was speaking to him, trying to make him resist his fate. _**I didn't want you to die, I just wanted you to change!**_ Confused, he answered as best as he could. _Why should you care? You're nothing. You're some voice in my head._ Maybe it was the imminent death or maybe he'd lost too much blood to think, but Grimm had been too dense to see the pieces of the puzzle before him. It was obvious, looking back on it, why he heard this voice to begin with. He just couldn't see it. So he was told. _**A mother always cares.**_ His heart stung, aching as the words flushed through his brain. The clues began to fall in place, aligning, suddenly making something so obvious clear to him.

 _ **Love for the unborn.**_

 _ **Care. Love. Trust.**_

 _ **Follow. Need to. Freedom.**_

 _ **Always Benji.**_

 _ **"Married to her. She was my wife, pregnant with my son..."**_

 _ **"...Daddy always swore I had a gift..."**_

 _M-Mother..? How is that possible!?_ He felt warm. Loved even. This woman, lost to the world, had been speaking to him the entire time. Guiding him... But perhaps wrong to. _**I don't have time to explain, but I did have a gift. I just died before I could gain access to it...**_ She sounded upset, lost even, which was a bizarre thought considering she was effectively a ghost. _**But I'm here to stop you doing this. Please, don't die here! I guided you here, made you follow Benji, made you feel what you did, because I wanted you to change! You weren't born bad, you're a good person, I've seen it! And I'm sorry, I'm sorry mummy wasn't there to protect you, but I'm here now! Benji isn't the man I fell in love with, he's... Changed. But I know you haven't, not deep down. Please, I just wanted you to have a better life!**_ He could feel her pain, feel her tears as if they were his own, but what could he do about it? He had to die. He had no choice, he couldn't even resist if he wanted to. And how did she think this would play out? She appears, begs him to change, and all of his murders are forgiven?! It didn't work like that, as much as he wished it could. This was the only way. Death was the only way. _I'm sorry... But I've no choice... I have to die. I'm sorry, mother... I love you._ And so, he braced himself once more, ignoring the frantic pleas of his late mother.

 _ **No, don't do this!**_

The bullet drew closer.

 _ **I'm begging you, don't die!**_

Closer.

 _ **Fight it! Fight it, please, for me!**_

Closer...

 _ **DON'T MAKE ME LOSE MY BABY!**_

* * *

 _ **"Come on, sweetpea. Come on! That's it!" A young boy, taking his first steps, wobbles towards his father's outreached hands, a grin on the adult's face as he picks up his young son. "That's my boy! Look at you, walking like a pro! Bet you'll run faster than me when you're old enough." He chuckled as he carried the boy to the dining table of his home, sitting down and gripping a tiny spoon which rest inside a nutritional, if unappealing looking, bowl of mushed paste. Whistling, the spoon is guided in a snaking pattern to the child's mouth, popped in without a fuss, and pushed back into the bowl as the child attempts to comprehend the mechanics of swallowing without spitting food all over their own chin. The effort repeats for a while, but the trick never fails, the father pleased by the boy's co-operation during dinner time. "Pretty bland, huh? Don't worry, I promise you, things taste better when you get older. No more slush like this until you get to my age and lose all your teeth!" Curling his lips over his teeth, he mumbles nonsensical noises to his son, earning delighted squeals of amusement as he attempts to mimic his dad. But, eventually, the man grows somber, a smile still on his face despite it. "Son... One of these days, I want you to do something with your life. Me and your mum, we're... We're too old, too 'normal' to be special. We're just common people living normal lives, but you? You were made for something else! I knew it the second I laid eyes on you." Kissing his son's brow, he hugs the boy gently to his chest, hoping his child never forgets how loved he is.**_

 _ **"Daddy loves you, Amina. And your mummy does too. We always will..."**_

* * *

The bullet ricocheted off into a nearby wall, catching the old man's attention and shocking him in the process. His eyes go from the failed bullet of death to the person it was designed for, eyes wide, disbelieving what he was even seeing. Rising to his feet, left arm coated in black, tiny feathers layering fur, small spikes of bone jutting out of skin, razor sharp claws replacing his fingers, Grimm had deflected the round with minimal effort... Or, at least to Béni, it had been Grimm. **About damn time I got control of you again!** In his last moments, surrendering himself to the void, ignoring the strength of his own mother's pleas, Grimm had become an empty enough vessel for his other side to pull itself back from the abyss, tearing back into his brain in time to provide the much needed strength he needed to fight. The only problem, however, was that the boy had no intention to do so. _No... No, not now! Don't do this, I don't want to live anymore!_ Eyes snapping open, cracks of blood red cascading down his cheeks as they burned brightly, he roared at his father, furious, revenge hungry. And after everything that happened, all the pain they'd endured, the other Grimm had no intention of letting his bloodlust go unanswered. **Fuck that! You may want to die, but I'm not about to! So if you're that much of a coward, shut up and give me full control. I don't need you, I just need your body!** Unaware of the inner turmoil going on inside his son's mind, Benjamin gritted his teeth, revolver shifting to mace, shifting into a battle stance. He'd called his son a monster, a murderous psychopath, but to know he was truly a monster... He'd expected evil but this level of it was madness. To see the boy with the eyes and arm of a Grimm, he knew the creature before him wasn't human. Had never been human. It was enough to push his fragile grip on reality over the edge, losing himself to the same paranoia that put his child in the deserts of Vacuo. "I knew it! I KNEW IT! I was right, you are a monster!" He cackled, lost in his own madness. "Now I'm going to make you pay! I'm going to purify this world of your wickness! For my wife! FOR MARIA!" The man in white shot forward, charging towards his enemy with a vengeful purpose, Grimm's body lurching forward to do the same. The two clashed, the power unholy arm of his glancing the silver weapon away, and the battle truly began. Trading blows, neither one managing to overwhelm the other, the two seemed equally matched. Grunting and huffing, eager to hurt the other, Grimm continued to fight with the other voice inside his head. _I didn't want this! He was right, I'm a monster! I can't make up for what I did, but I can die!_ A moment of hesitation and he found a mace connect with his face, throwing him backwards and barely just being able to block a follow-up attack in the process. Snarled at, his darker version wasn't best pleased with his actions. **Stop holding us back! Are you really that selfish to get us both killed!? And how is this guy any better, he's a nut job! Dying won't fix the past, so STOP BEING SO WEAK!** Béni, swinging wildly to try beat his son into the floor, throw his attack too wide, leaving an opening for a violent kick to the ribs. Stumbling back, slashed across the face, three thin cuts oozing blood down his cheek, he pushed back. Clubbing down, swinging sharply, he jabbed with the face of his mace and pulled the trigger, propelling Grimm back into a wall, concrete scattering around him, gut burned and damaged. Muscle nearly on show beneath bleeding skin, it was clear to all three that he'd not be able to resist another blast like that. Not without his full powers. But, still resisting, that wasn't about to happen. Inside his mind, he battled with himself, fighting for control, unable to gain full control but persistent enough to hold back losing himself completely. The old man quickly swapped back to his revolver, reloading the gun with various Dust rounds as Grimm recovered from the previous strike. There was no time to charge forward, the gunslinger already having finished his task, so evasion was the only option. And the more angles he covered, the better.

Firing himself up the very wall he was smashed into, the demon boy dodged past explosions of fire and ice, nearly being struck by the sharp sting of lightning as it exploded before him, counting the bullets. Béni seemed to know exactly what he was planning, but couldn't reload as quickly as it came. When the sixth round was spent, Grimm stalled dead on the wall, spinning on his heels with his momentum, and burst from the wall towards his victim, the stone cracking underheel as black feathers trailed behind his inhuman limb. Landing with a violent downward smash, staggering the pensioner, he began a rapid flurry of blows. Distracting with his claw, he signposted his attacks on purpose, striking with his pale fist or a snap kick the second it was blocked. The mortal managed to resist, occasionally striking back, smashing the back of Grimm's knee and attempting to crack open his skull in sudden one-two swing, but it was never enough. Deflecting the fatal blow, the devil child struck his father in the gut with a powerful punch before booting him across the courtyard. Béni, testament to his age, managed to roll back onto his feet. However, Grimm easily closed the gap, forcing him to toss any handful of bullets from his pouch he could grab. Slamming into various Dust rounds forced his opponent back, not at harshly as it would've had he been shot, but it was enough to give him chance to fight back. One chance swing came down on the boy's hand, a sharp snap as the younger male's fingers were struck, the digits breaking, but he didn't react, backhanding his father and returning to fray without a care beyond desiring blood split. A volley of claw based stabs resulted in various cuts across the once unharmed elderly body, the human slowing as fatigue kicked in. Maybe it was his age, maybe it was just the length of the battle or the supernatural power he faced, but Béni was beginning to slip. For every two attacks he blocked, he was struck by one. For every cut he avoided, he'd gain three more. Slowly but surely, the old man was failing to defeat the monster he'd came so close to killing. Forced backed by a hard shoulder bash, Béni spun his mace to deflect several Nevermore feathers flung towards him, but couldn't stop the ungodly swipe he received, failing to noticed the feathers were nothing more than a distraction tactic. Flung back, he only just managed to regain his footing... And realized his weapon hadn't followed him on his journey, left back where he stood. **Now he's MINE!** Grimm took the advantage, losing his internal battle, hunching over and roaring as he proceeded to storm towards his father, razor sharp claws scraping across the pavement as he did. _No! No, I don't want this! I don't want you to do this!_ His body didn't listen, clearing the distance easily, arm cocked and ready to impale, his father unable to resist, eyes clenched, raising his arms in a feeble attempt to save himself. _I'm not a monster like you! NOT ANYMORE!_ They were inches apart, the demon lunging for his target, an inhuman growl torn from his throat as he bolting in for the kill.

The two connected.

The world was silent.

No Grimm.

No terrorists.

No panicked survivors.

The world didn't exist to them.

Not in this moment.

Béni's eyes shot open, gasping as he did. Grimm's human arm was wrapped around his neck, the two like statues as they stood, the entire courtyard silent beyond all norm. Not even a single leaf rustled in the wind. He trembled, the devilish red of his eyes faded back to the milky white of his own eyes, tear streaming down his cheeks. "I'm sorry..." Words, barely a whisper, left his lips. It was all he could manage, all that came, as he hugged his father tighter. The older man did nothing, frozen in place, unable to even attempt to return the gesture. He took in every detail; the smell of his cologne, the feel of his shirt's fabric, the short length of his hair... Grimm had won the fight with himself. Had won control of his body. Had things he needed to say with a clear mind, fearing he'd lose himself once again someday. He knew his father wouldn't love him, knew there was no chance of a happy ending, no fairytale reunion or crappy movie adaption showing his entire family well and happy and living in peace, but this was enough. A chance to apologize. A chance for closure. "I'm sorry... For everything. I didn't want to be like this, I didn't ASK for this, I just-" He sniffled, the tears coming harder, soaking into his father's shirt, as he embraced grew more desperate. "I wasn't always evil! I swear, I wasn't! A-A-And I'm sorry for what happened to mum, I'm sorry! But I didn't do that, it wasn't my fault, and if I could go back and die, go back and never be born, to let you keep her, I would! I'd do it all, prevent all of this, if it meant you could both live better lives!" Sharp nails dug into Béni shoulder, the monster finally human once again, his soul bleeding from the years of wounds it had left festering. His heart ached, bruised from the scars it carried, from the guilty it was burdened by. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I just wanted to be loved, to make you proud, to be NORMAL! I... I-I just..." His sobs became erratic, chest heaving for breath, as he broke down before his true father. His hold never weakened, unwilling to allow himself to forget this moment. Making sure he never forgot the man who gave him life. Who loved him, even briefly, at one point in his existence. The man who'd indirectly saved him from himself. A man who, despite his actions, was still his father. And, in a way, he knew he was right to wish him dead. He was a monster. A killer. A Grimm born human. Maybe if he hadn't suffered, been tortured all those years ago, had a better life, he'd be a normal boy. Maybe even a hero. But who could day for sure? There was no promise he wouldn't end up the same. And that's why he needed this, right now.

He needed to remember the day he met and left his true father forever.

To remember the day he saw clear, just once, beyond the monster inside of him.

To remember the day he lived, if only for a time, instead of existing.

The day he accepted that dying wasn't the way. That his sins could only be absolved while living.

Pulling himself together, cries fading, he whispered a praise and a thank you for everything, before indulging in the hug once more.

"Goodbye... Dad."

And as a blinding light consumed Beacon, an echo of a pain resonating within it, the two men stood together. The father held by his son. The son who'd accepted he had no right to a normal life, no hope of forgiveness or love. A man, turned monster and back again, who wished nothing more than to undo all the harm he'd done to so many innocent people he'd just stumbled across. Even the Grimm seemed still, silent, peaceful, for once in their chaotic lives.

And as the light washed over them, no one could see the tears that ran down the boy's face. No one could see the smile spread on his lips for feeling the warmth of his true father in his hold. No one could see the father's eyes roll shut, a single sigh on his lips. No one could see Grimm maybe, just maybe, close the door on one part of his past. But, most of all...

No one could see the black tar-like arm that had pierced the old man's gut, minutes ago, withdrawing, contrasting the world as all faded white...

* * *

 **Took longer than I liked but 1) I've had a headache the entire time I was writing all of these and it's only just ended, 2) I got stuck on the fight scene cos I can never describe how I picture them in my head..., and 3) I didn't feel up to writing much yesterday. But, hey, 8000+ words! Whoo! So happy to have this written up! Sorry if it didn't live up to expectations, I really wish I could draw or animate this, it'd be so much easier for me then. But yeah, as I said, canon friendly and set in Season 3. Pretty proud of it all myself. Especially fond of the ending. No, I won't say who did it. Did Grimm fail to stop his other self in time? Was his other self only pretending to be a sobbing Grimm? Did Grimm himself kill his father? If I ever make a sequel, which I hope to someday but it'd be even bigger with more characters and... Urgh... So much work for one person to write... But I might reveal how it ended then. I do have plans for a future one but it's unlikely considering it took me years to write this up!**

 **Anyway, stay tuned for the epilogue, which'll take less time to write, I promise, and I hope you all enjoyed the story while it lasted. Also, be honest, who didn't see the voice in his head being his mother?**

 **But yeah, conclusion coming soon!**


	6. Fallen

**Okay, I know I said it'd take less time to write but between losing my drive, being ill, a sudden cold snap and generally no feeling it was good enough, I lost the power to finish this. But now it's down to, what I hope, is a good standard. So here is the concluding part of When I Fall. It won't answer everything, but since when did animes/manga tie off all loose ends after the first series?**

 **Anyway, here's the epilogue. Enjoy.**

* * *

 _ **I'm sorry it came to this, sweetpea. I didn't expect him to be the same but... This...**_

 _ **I hope he can forgive me for bringing you here. For causing this.**_

 _ **But you can't stay here anymore, honey. It's time to go.**_

 _ **There's more to your life than just pain and chaos.**_

 _ **It's time to go find it.**_

* * *

"HELP! Somebody help me!"

A young girl of fourteen sprints through the forest, auburn hair flowing in the breeze, her floral dress tattered and dirty, desperate to escape the men seeking to kill her. She'd done them no wrong, never hurt them, never even met them, yet they chased her all the same. Why? The reason was simple; She'd just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was a Faunus, as had her family been, trying to escape the slaughter of Beacon and reach friends in the kingdom of Atlas. It would be dangerous, they knew that, but they'd never expected humans to be a greater threat than Grimm... There'd been three originally. Driving out of the city, her mother and father with her in the car, they'd come across someone who appeared in need of help. Most would've drove on, either paranoid or just plain scared of stopping given the chaos behind them. They didn't. They were good people, decent people, who couldn't turn away an innocent person in need. Pulling over, her father and mother getting out of the car to help, guns were drawn on them before they even had time to react, the teen sinking into her seat in fear, panda ears atop her head twitching frantically. Bandits looking to profit on those who escaped the madness behind them and were too weak to fight back. And bandits aren't renown for leaving their victims alive. Instinctively, her father shielded his wife, defending her, knowing fully how these people acted. Threats were made, both by the villains and her parents, as she carefully unlatched the door and slipped out to hide behind the car. She was young, small, so sneaking off came naturally. If she didn't want to be seen, they'd not see her. But then tempers flared, voices were raised, threats became even more graphic, and she watched as her mother drew a cheap pistol they'd bought long before she was born. While they'd never used it before, it had been kept around for defensive reasons. Granted, it was mostly for anti-Faunus humans, but situations like this proved it was certainly going to be needed at some point. It didn't matter where you lived, there was always going to be bad people in every kingdom.

The gun was held behind her back, hidden, waiting, a death grip on steel by a mother who wanted, needed, to protect her family from three cruel humans who lived to make others suffer. The teen just coward, hiding behind the car, hoping everything would be okay. But, a fact all in Remnant knew, life is no fairytale. There's no happy endings. No true love lasting forever. No triumph that doesn't come without the cost of many, many lives.

A single gun shot, a scream of horror, and she was down a father.

A second shot, then a third, pained screaming all the while, and she was an orphan.

They killed her father first, trying to send a message or perhaps with cruel intentions for his wife, before her mother fought back. It wasn't enough, but it was something. Both her parents had suffered quick deaths, clean shots through the head, but one of the bandits had suffered her wrath. He'd taken a bullet to the gut, bleeding heavily, likely having lost a good portion of intestine in the process. He'd die, it wasn't like outlaws had a code when someone is injured, less people meant more of a share. But for the time, he was going to scream and scream loud. And while he did, she saw it as her chance to run. If she didn't, they'd find her while looting the car and she'd been completely defenseless. So she did. She didn't even think about it, feet hammering the dirt, bolting into the thick brush and hearing the shouts of the murderers behind her. The injured party had been abandoned on the road as the others chased her, leaving him to either bleed out or be devoured by whatever found him there, unwilling to allow their bloodlust be unsated. To her luck, the woods were good cover from any attempts to shoot her, the bullet striking an innocent tree or missing entirely in the process. Likewise, her small stature allowed her to easily dart through the roots and branches ahead of her. But, unlike those hunting her, she lacked stamina. And when being chased by men trying to kill you, men who want to see you hurt for no reason beyond they can, stamina is essential. Either to escape them... Or to endure whatever they inflict on you. She couldn't run forever, as much as she wanted, forced to take brief breaks between frantic sprints, beyond so young and having never needed to run for her life before. Things had been good, she had a decent life with caring parents and now it had all turned to shit. All gone to hell because of a few criminals who wanted quick cash and a quicker thrill. The third man couldn't be heard now, either due to how fair they'd gotten from him or because he'd finally met his end, but his allies (if you could even proclaim they had been that) were still on her tail. And, forced through the harsh woodlands for her own survival, the poor teen had taken a battering from nature.

Her skin was dirty, whipped by sharp branched, and sore all over while her dress had been tattered and frayed in placed for the same reasons. She panted, ears twitching, terrified, begging for them to stop pursuing her. She ran again, pushing through the trees, gasping, realizing she'd been crying the entire time as tears streamed down her face, exhausted but resisting the death following her. But one lapse in focus, one single mistake, and she was floored. She'd been running for what felt like hours, never knowing where she was or where she was heading, assuming the forest would go on forever. But when it didn't, when rows of trees suddenly because a steep slope, when her foot couldn't find solid ground to land upon and instead flew through nothingness, sending her tumbling down to an open dirt road, she landed with a painful **thud**. The air knocked out of her, dazed, she tried to scramble to her feet but found she barely had the energy anymore. Shuffling backwards, pressed against a tree, eyes wide in horror, she watched as the two men seeking her caught up and rushed down the incline towards her. One gripped her hair, forcing the squeal from her, before slamming her back into the oak and tossing her to the floor like she was trash. She trembled, barely able to think, her body aching, head throbbing in pain, unable to defend herself as a heavy boot kicked into her stomach. She let loose a cry of pain as they continued beating her, enjoying her suffering as they did. "Little bitch! Fucking think you can get away from us!? Well, fuck you, you little hybrid slut!" A final kick pushed a little too deep, hit the wrong place, dug into the wrong muscle, and forced her to retch, bile spat onto the floor beneath her, sobs of anguish barely able to be pulled from her body. A knife was drawn as she was kicked onto her back, mud caking her clothes and skin, a quick slash drawn across her arm and forcing another scream from her. If they had intend to kill her before, then they'd changed their mind now. Having a play thing, a young non-human to abuse and then discard, was always more interesting to the rotten parts of humanity.

"That's right, you little cunt, I wanna know it hurts. Fucking teach your kind not to mess with us!" Another slash down her arm this time, then across her thigh, then her stomach. They were light, non-fatal, but painful to someone so innocent. Then came a punch, clean to the jaw, then the ribs, the stomach, the jaw again... Her body was growing numb from it all, unable to even tell if she was crying any more, too focused on the torture she was enduring.

But then the other one drew close, pinning her arms down as the other loomed.

Then she truly panicked.

She didn't know what they were planning but she knew it'd never be good. She screamed, thrashed, struggling and kicking, no longer fearing the knife she'd been hurt by, desperate to escape. Her foot connected with something and launched against it, punting a bandit in the ribs and earning a grunt of pain the process... Then a punch to the face, nose bloodied, breathing harder with the crimson blocking her nostrils now. "Fucking bitch! You try that again and I'm-" She did it again, hitting him in the jaw this time, forcing him off her. This spurred her on, like an adrenaline rush, head darting up to crack the bandit knelt above her in the crotch. Needless to say, that act had been pretty effective... She threw herself to her feet, uncaring as her hands clawed at vomit soaked dirt, wobbling, limping, barely able to move but unwilling to go down without a fight. She didn't have much but she had enough spirit left in her to keep moving, to keep resisting. It was all she had left now. The urge to survive. Determination to struggle. So much so that she had completely forgotten, amidst torture and scarring mental images of sexual violation, that they had guns... The first shot got her in the shoulder, but she shuffled on. The second, blowing through the muscle of her thigh, was what brought her down. Hitting the floor unwillingly for what was the third time tonight, she rolled onto her back and kicked away across the filth she lay in. She didn't care if her wounds got infected, didn't care how much it hurt, she just had to get away. But she could see the two men growing closer, both furious, both no longer willing to put up with her. "I'm sick of your games, slut! Could've let you live if you just played along but guess you wanted to die instead!" He rushed her, gun aimed all the while, but got a faceful of dirt for doing so. It wasn't much, but she refused to just give up. But then he kicked the bullet wound in her thigh, pain screaming through her body as she cried out herself, before slamming his boot into his chest, pinning her, preventing her escape. Hands gripped at his leg, feebly trying to yank it away from her, trying to break free, but it was no use. The man glared down at her with a twisted smirk on his lips. "Gonna make sure you rot with those rat fucking parents of yours! Gonna piss all over your corpse, maybe take those fucking ears of your's as a trophy!" She stared up at him, struggling, eyes shut, unwilling to let this be the end, resisting her fate, but unable to fight him off of her. She couldn't cry anymore, but she screamed, nails clawing at his trouser leg, grunting and flailing as both bandits watched with amusement.

The hammer was cocked.

Her end was coming.

The trigger was pulled.

The shot was fired.

Yet...

She didn't feel dead.

In fact, she didn't feel anything beyond the pain she was already in. No boot on her chest, no steady foot pushing down on her, no evil eyes staring at her pain with glee. Nothing.

So she dared to open her eyes.

And saw a pale man, with arms of an Ursa, holding both halves of a bi-sected bandit.

Her eyes darted between the three men: One to the stranger, who was calm as can be while coated in blood, one to her would-be executioner, horrified as his organs pooled by her feet, and one to his fellow scumbag, who seemed to be missing most both arms and a throat... She quivered, frozen to the spot, unable to process what she was witnessing, as the stranger dumped the corpse he held onto the floor as if it was nothing to him. He slowly straightened up, the blackness of his arms fading till they were human, wiping down the beaten rags of his ashen pants, jet black hair that had been haphazardly cut if not torn short, a silver revolver resting in their rear, scarred pale chest still drenched in red. She pushed herself back slowly, trying to sneak away, but he snapped around, milky white eyes locking onto her, pupils as pale as his skin. Streaks burden his cheeks, telltale lines betraying the hours he'd been crying before now. He took a step towards her, forcing a squeak of terror from her as she curled in on herself, before kneeling besides her. A clawed hand slowly extended to lay upon her shoulder as he sniffed, blind eyes darting over her all the while. She dared to look back at him and he returned to 'looking' directly into her eyes. "...What's your name?" His voice was soft, but clearly sore, wavering, calming, almost heartbreaking in tone. She stared in silence, not knowing if she could trust him, watching him as he casually waltzed over to his more intact victim and ripping the cleanest parts of his shirt from him. Returning, claws tearing at the fabric, he bowed towards her. She flinched but he didn't stop, gently wrapping the cloth rags around her thigh and shoulder, bandaging the more severe wounds before applying lighter dressings to her cuts. When he ran out of rags, he'd simply try find more from both the bodies, intent on patching her up. "It's okay, you know, if you don't want to tell me. My name..." He paused, seeming to think for a moment, before continuing. "My name is Grimm. I had another name but... Well, I'm not that person anymore..." More rags, more bandaging, the stranger treating her gently despite the monstrous appearance he'd first shown. Hands ran across his scalp, fingers looking for something but seemingly finding nothing, before he sniffed again. He'd look at the girl, sniff, then look at the two men he'd slaughtered, doing the same thing, tensing up as he clearly smelt something he didn't like. "They didn't... Do... Anything... Right? Beyond hurting you, I mean?" She shook her head, Grimm visible relieved the moment she did. It was nice, oddly, having a stranger care so much about her. Seeing someone care, even if others wanted to harm her.

"My... My name is Spera. I... T-Thank you... For saving me." The pale boy practically lit up to this, a weak smile on his lips as the words slipped from her. Offering her a hand, she cautiously took it, as if expecting it to turn into a Ursine claw again, slowly attempting to stand. She failed, naturally, calling out in pain but falling into his arms. "Hey hey hey hey, easy there! Trust me, after the shit you look like you've been through, you can't put pressure the wrong parts. Here..." Flinching, though unable to resist, Spera allowed the stranger to gently lift her from the dirt below, cradled to his chest. It was awkward, to say the least, but better than trying to use her own battered body to walk. "I'm hoping you heal fast but I'll need to treat your wounds properly later. Anti-septic and stitches are a must, so I won't promise you'll like it." Wincing to the mention of having her injuries sew together, Spera attempted to curl up on herself. The realization of what had occurred finally had the time to sink in, her body too exhausted to produce tears anymore but her breath hitching in her throat. Her ghostly savior noticed, brow raised, clearly worried. "Are you... Oh. _Oh_. I'm sorry, I was going to ask but..." Chin resting on her scalp, pulling her firmly to his cold body, Grimm embraced the girl as he recalled his own reaction upon hearing of his mother's demise. Sobbing and gasping, in pain but too grief stricken to stop, Spera shuddered in his hold as her body was devoured by sorrow. To his merit, Grimm stood there, silent, holding her with no intent of leaving her to suffer alone. Bowing his head, lips next to her ear, he whispered. "If you're willing... Tell me where they are... And we'll give them a proper burial. Honor them properly." She glanced up, eyes filled with anguish, and seemed to contemplate the idea. While she didn't want to look at her parents bodies, didn't want it to become real, she felt inclined to give them their last rites. Pointing over to where she'd fallen from, she mumbled "I... I-I think they're over there..." before curling up on herself once more like a child seeking comfort after a nightmare. Nodding, accepting her choice, Grimm began to walk carefully up the slope with Spera in his arms, holding her close as he did. He'd bury them, he promised to, even if she didn't want to look. She didn't need to be traumatized any more than she already was. And, afterwards, he'd need to find somewhere to get her treated. Maybe not by other people, he had no trust towards other humans, but at least somewhere to get supplies... Or steal them. Though, as dawn approached, he swore he'd keep her alive. She needed someone, someone who was emotionally and physically strong, until she could stand alone against the world. Sure, he wasn't perfect, but he wanted to try. That was enough for the time. And as he wandered, he found himself drifting off into his own thoughts. Thoughts about the past, the future, and even right now...

 _I won't forget what happened here. Nobody can forget something like that. So... I need to accept it. My parents, my adoptive ones, they loved me. I know that. Always known that. And maybe, before all of this, before I was born, my real father did too. I've always been loved at some point in my life, but the love of those I've lost is cold comfort with the hell I endured... But this girl, this little panda, could be a new start for me. I have something to focus on, someone to protect, to care for. Without her, I'm directionless. And I can't afford to be left with my thoughts. All of this chaos, all of this pain, I doubt I'll ever truly get over. I'll never find moments rest and, fuck knows, I deserve no love. There's no heroes in the end of this story who rises above evil. In the end, whatever good has fallen, a shining light sunk into darkness, victory to the very incarnation of hate, misery and pain spread out to all involved. But now it's over... And I feel like my fall is finally over. Like I've hit bottom but somehow survived. Somehow been gifted a second chance. And that's all I want out of life right now, a new life, a chance to try and make my existance more than just violence towards others._

 _I don't deserve it. I'll never deserve it. Respect, love, trust, nobody should praise me with such luxeries. But I want to try be a good man. Hopefully... She'll help me find my way to being someone worth caring about..._

Pulling the faunus girl tighter to his chest, happy to feel warmth against his broken heart, Grimm walked into the forest to hunt down closure for the girl.

And when he could feel her sorrow forming again, he distracted her the best way he could...

"Hey, Spera... Do you wanna hear a fairytale..?"

* * *

 **I don't know where we should go,  
just feeling farther from our home.  
I don't know what paths we will be shown,  
But I know that when I'm with you I'm at home.  
Yes, I know that when I'm with you I'm at home.**

 **Thank you for reading.**


End file.
